Captivate
by kate avalanche
Summary: It started out as a game for Loki - a game to torment Natasha and to possibly win her over. It didn't take much for that game to spiral beyond what either of them could have expected, throwing them onto a playing field of aliens, gods, heroes, deceptions, magic, and unexpected allies. Warnings: sex, violence, swearing, angst. This is the fic your mother warned you about.
1. Chapter 1

Heads up for newcomers! There are a fair number of warnings that come with this story, and definitely reasons why I've made it M.

Warnings for the story overall: violence (occasionally a little graphic, mostly just actiony), sex, swearing (oh, Clint. You mouthy little fuck.), and occasionally angsting. There's probably more, but that's all that comes to mind.

* * *

He hadn't heard her coming. He hadn't needed to. Who else could it have been?

The first time he had ever laid eyes on her, he had felt a peculiar resonance between their souls. A kinship that had never been present with those who had actually claimed to be his kin. A similar blood-soaked loneliness.

He wanted to believe that she felt it too, but one look at her body language now told him she didn't. Pity.

"There's not many people who can sneak up on me," mentally, he added _and none of them_ _human._

She didn't miss a beat, just said, "But you figured I'd come?"

"After," he began, "After whatever tortures Fury can concoct. You would appear as a friend, as a balm, and I would cooperate."

He took this chance to analyze her. He was a little disappointed at what he found. She came, not out of an interest in him, but in what he might know. She came to trick the trickster. Loki decided to play along.

"I want to know what you've done to Agent Barton," she said, her expression impassive.

"I'd say I've expanded his mind."

"And once you've won, once you're king of the mountain, what happens to his mind?"

"Is this love, Agent Romanoff?" a flicker of jealousy flared up in his mind. Here she was, the woman who had managed to fascinate him so, and even as they conversed alone, she had to bring another man into it.

"Love is for children," Loki let out the tiniest of sighs, pleased with her response, "I owe him a debt."

"Tell me," he grinned. The plot thickens.

" Before I worked for SHIELD, I ah - well, I made a name for myself. I have a very specific skill set. I didn't care who I used it for, or on. I got on SHIELD's radar in a bad way. Agent Barton was sent to kill me. He made a different call."

She was obviously trying to hold back as much as possible. He could tell there was a history between these two. He would have known just from the look on her face, the careful angle at which she held her head. But Barton's mind had already yielded up that history to him. He wanted something new. He wanted to know how much that history was worth to her.

"And what will you do if I vow to spare him?"

"Not let you out."

"I know, but I like this," his grin split into a wide, knowing smile, "Your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man."

The turning of the wheels in the mad god's head was practically audible.

"Regimes fall every day. I tend not to weep over that. I'm Russian - or I was," she looked almost...bored.

"And what are you now?"

Natasha looked at him, seeming frustrated, like she wanted the conversation to be over with.

"It's really not that complicated. I've got red in my ledger, and I'd like to wipe it out."

" Can you? Can you wipe out that much red? Drekov's daughter, Sao Paulo, the hospital fire? Barton told me everything. Your ledger is dripping, it's gushing red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? This is the basest sentimentality. This is a child's prayer, pathetic.

"You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors. But they are part of you and they will never go away," her eyes widened at the venom in his voice and he realized that he was no longer talking about Natasha alone. He was angry with her only because she reminded him of parts of himself that he hated. Strong on the outside but inside, broken and lost. Shackled to their pasts and craving a way to make it right when, of course, there wasn't one.

He growled deep in his throat, "I won't touch Barton. Not until I make him kill you, slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear. And then he'll wake just long enough to see his good work. And when he screams, I'll split his skull."

Her facade was shattered, and they both knew it, but she tried to hide it anyway. Part of Loki instantly regretted what he'd said, but it was too late to go back. The vindictive, childish streak was in control and couldn't resist one final twist of the knife.

"This is my bargain, you mewling quim."

"You're a monster," he could hear the tremor in her voice as she worked to get herself back under control.

"Oh, no. You brought the monster."

She snaped her head up, understanding blooming in her eyes, "So, that's your plan?"

He didn't even hear the rest of what she said, so focused was he on not showing his delight. She was clever, his Black Widow. Barton did well to save her.

* * *

The next chance he had to examine Natasha at length was not conducive to conversation. As much as he resented the gag, he did love a challenge. It seemed somehow wrong to leave without a giving her a parting gift, but without his words or his magic - having his hands bound complicated things - he had to be resourceful.

She glanced at him and found herself caught in an invisible grip. She tried to look away, but he somehow dragged her back without moving a muscle. Even with half of his face obscured, the smirk was obvious from the crinkles around his eyes, infuriating and...endearing? Where did that thought come from? The crinkles deepened, and she could tell he was genuinely smiling then. Unbidden, a tiny voice in her head noticed that, for a superpowered psychopath with daddy issues, he was still awfully handsome.

Loki saw her jump when Barton placed a hand on her shoulder, his expression curious. Yes, the seed was planted now. And all he had to do was wait.


	2. Chapter 2

I've gone through and made some smallish edits to the story as a whole. If you're reading for the first time, you're good to go! If you're coming back, it would be best to go to the beginning and do at least a quick skim. Hope you enjoy! (Also, there are some lovely easter eggs hidden for Hiddlestoners. Points if you can find them!)

* * *

It started out with such tiny things. When they actually happened, it sometimes didn't register to Natasha. It wasn't until later, when she was in bed with the lights out, that she had time to dwell on the details. Sometimes, though, it hit her like a sack of bricks.

Tony's plan to help Steve reintegrate into society involved a lot of movie marathons and scotch. Steve rarely touched the scotch, but was fascinated by the movies. He had been there for talking pictures, but color TV was way past his time, and special effects were enough to drag him to the very edge of his seat.

About a month into the marathon - Tony had just about every movie ever made - Natasha was behind the bar, fixing herself a drink, when she heard it. That voice. She looked up at the screen to see a man in what looked like a British WW1 era uniform. She knew it wasn't him; how could it be? She looked again, saw that the angles of his face were softer, his eyes bluer, but that voice was so similar that her heart stopped for a second.

Tony happened to glance back and mistook her expression for rapt interest.

"You know, the view is much better over here," he patted the spot next to his on the sofa with a charming grin.

"I'm sure it is," she made a halfhearted attempt to smile back, "but I really should be going."

Steve twisted around in his seat, furrowing his brows, "Is everything ok?"

After Clint, he was the one best attuned to people, and the best at picking up on it when she was feeling off. Usually, she appreciated that, but just then...

"Yeah, I just remembered there was something Fury had asked me to do. I've already put it off a couple days," she said. She cleared away her untouched drink and walked to the door, giving the group a wave goodbye. As she closed the door behind her, she could still feel Steve's eyes on her, could feel that he sensed something was not quite right.

"Women. Sometimes, there's no understanding them," Tony shook his head and went back to the movie.

That night, she dreamt she was horseback riding with Loki, that they were racing each other, and the landscape around them an expanse of sand that seemed to go on forever.

* * *

After the awkward silence that happened at the schwarma place, the group didn't do dinner often. When Tony and Bruce finally had a breakthrough in a project of theirs, though, the two insist that they all go out to celebrate. But Thor was about three hours late getting the memo - he claimed that's just how long it takes to get from New Mexico to New York by hammer - and with their reservation long gone, they ended up staying in and ordering Chinese delivery to Stark Tower.

The drinking and talking and laughing went on until the sky was just starting to lighten, and though Natasha hadn't said much, she had to admit that it felt good to just sit back and soak it all up. It had been nearly eight months since she helped bring together this group of misfits, but already she felt comfortable around them.

Clint caught her eye, and she could tell that he knew what she was thinking. At that moment, she was the most content she had been in ages.

"Tell me, how is it that a cookie can see into my future?"

Thor's voice dragged her from her reverie. The look on his face was so intense, all of his focus on a tiny slip of paper. He started reading it out loud.

"Even a tiny acorn may grow into a mighty oak."

"-in bed!" Tony said, chuckling, "We'd have to ask the good doctor about that one! Where is Jane?"

Clint shook his head, but Natasha could see the grin he was fighting to hide. He reached into the bag and tossed her a fortune cookie, saving one for himself.

She finished the whole cookie before reading the fortune - she wasn't superstitious, she'd just always done it that way. Tony had an expectant look in his eyes, waiting to hear what she got to make a joke.

"You have the power to turn your fiercest foe into your strongest ally."

Thankfully, Stark knew when it was best to keep his mouth shut. Usually, he ignored that and charged on anyway, but he got the sense that this wasn't the time. The little cookie hit too close to home for Natasha, and anyway, Clint's was much better joke fodder. The boys went back to teasing him about his, and Natasha finished her second glass of wine.

When the party finally broke up, Natasha and Clint rode back together. Their apartments were only a few blocks apart, and it gave them a chance to talk without the others.

"I wouldn't worry about it, Tasha. Fortune cookies are a joke. I mean, did you see what mine was? 'Your tongue is your greatest ambassador'? The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

She knew he meant well, but she didn't trust herself not to snap at him just then, so she said nothing. Four red lights later, he tried again to start up the conversation.

"Do you think about him a lot?" he glanced over to see her about to deny it, "You don't have to play games with me, you know. I figure if anyone can guess what you're going through, it's Erik or me. The others... he didn't toy with them like he did with us. I'm fine if you don't want to talk about it, but do me a favor and be honest, ok?"

"Thank you," she said after a minute, "but I can't really talk about it now. Someday, I promise."

He nodded, accepting that. The rest of the drive was spent in comfortable quiet. When they pulled up to Natasha's building, he reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"When someday comes, I'll be here."

* * *

Fun fact: I've actually gotten all of those fortunes at one point or another. Wacky fortune cookie writers.


	3. Chapter 3

I've gone through and made some smallish edits to the story as a whole. If you're reading for the first time, you're good to go! If you're coming back, it would be best to go to the beginning and do at least a quick skim. Hope you enjoy! (Also, there are some lovely easter eggs hidden for Hiddlestoners. Points if you can find them!)

* * *

Natasha's low heels clacked on the steps, echoing throughout the stairwell. It was a long walk up eleven flights of stairs, but after the incident in Manila, she didn't care for elevators. There were times when she would come home from a mission, clinging to consciousness by a thread, when she would wonder if it was worth it. And then she would open her door to see the sun rise over the New York skyline, pouring gold over the buildings and the water, and all of her doubts were silenced.

"M'home," she said to no one.

The shoes were the first to go. She tossed them towards her closet, mentally promising to put them away later. Her jeans and shirt were quick to follow, flying towards the laundry basket as she pulled back the covers and sank into her bed.

It was at least another hour before she slept, so occupied were her thoughts by Loki, and by what Clint had said.

He was right, of course. He and Erik were probably the best qualified to understand what she was going through. But that was like saying that, of a group of deaf people, the one with the hearing aid was best qualified to hear a car backfire on the other side of town. It still wasn't enough.

Loki had gotten past her walls. It was only for a second, but a second was all it took. No one got to her unless she let them in, and aside from Clint, she couldn't remember the last person she had done that for. Was it any wonder the god was all she could think about sometimes?

And Clint. She could see how it bothered him to know there was something wrong, to want to help, and to have her shut him out. She was ashamed to let him know what was actually wrong with her.

She was glad that Loki had gotten to her. In some small way, it made her feel more alive than she had in years. The spy had become too adept at hanging back from situations and holding back from friends.

Natasha was surrounded by people who were her equals in combat. Loki was the only one who felt like an equal in everything else. And because of that, she secretly wanted him back in her life, if only to give her a challenge.

When she finally slept, she dreamt of green eyes, black hair, and dim lights glinting off of gold.

* * *

Loki could barely contain his delight as he looked down on Midgard. He had expected this to be so much more difficult, but his Black Widow seemed to be doing most of his work for him.

It had been the simplest thing in the world to rearrange the ink on her fortune to say something that might strike a chord with the woman. And the man in the film had been all her own doing.

Loki frowned as he remembered that. He looked nothing like that mortal. And the man's voice lacked the depth, the musicality of his own. To borrow an Earth phrase, they were as different as chalk and cheese.

Natasha must have been getting desperately lonely if she was going to these lengths to imagine him everywhere she looked. Perhaps he should grant her wish?

His lips, pink from where he bit them to think, curled at the corners.

What he had in mind would have been all but impossible a few months ago, when Thor had just brought him back bound and gagged. Time had worked its own magic though, and what time had not done, Frigga's gentle heart had accomplished. Slowly, Loki had regained a certain level of freedom. No longer was he a prisoner - at least not in the strictest sense. He was free to roam Asgard as he liked, but the Bifrost was closed to him. And he knew that, no matter the time that had passed, there was no one who would not keep one eye trained on him at all times.

Well, perhaps not Odin, as he only has the one eye.

And Thor only out of brotherly concern and love.

But this was plenty to work with, and he smiled as a plan began to form.

"Oh, Natasha," his green eyes glinted in the firelight, "You've waited long enough."

* * *

It was half past noon when Natasha finally woke up, still exhausted from the previous night. She might have slept even longer, but her stomach gave a miserable growl. Rolling over and pulling the pillow over her face, she did a quick mental inventory of all the food in her kitchen.

The heel of a loaf of bread that had probably fossilized by now, half a jar of red curry paste, some canned soups, and a pint of White Russian ice cream that was probably more ice crystals than ice cream.

She let out a groan and swung her feet over the edge of the bed. It was time to go grocery shopping. She threw on the first clean clothes she laid her hands on, grabbed her bag, and left the apartment with a sigh.

On the bedside table, unnoticed, was a vase of delicate, dark purple wildflowers.

* * *

New York was a far cry from how Loki remembered it from his last visit. Indeed, there were almost no buildings still under construction. He paused to marvel at how industrious these humans were, like ants. Ants that he never got to introduce to his boot.

Ants that kept giving him strange looks.

He glanced down at what he was wearing. This was the same appearance he assumed in Stuttgart, and he had fit in well enough there.

Damn. All the time he had spent cloistered in Asgard had left him rusty. He was dressed for an art gala or the opera, and in the city, under the shadow of Stark Tower, he stuck out.

The suit shifted into a pair of jeans and a button-up, the wool trench into a suit vest.

Aah, here she came. And here he was, poised and ready.

* * *

A/N: The flowers are Bartsia Alpina, in case anyone is curious. They're actually associated with Loki, which is why I thought they were appropriate.


	4. Chapter 4

This chapter should have been done sooner, but it kept giving me trouble and so I kept jumping ahead to write future parts. So at least that'll help get those chapters out that much faster. Get excited! I'm really pleased with what I've got in store for you!

* * *

_Aah, here she came. And here he was, poised and ready._

* * *

What the hell was he doing here? Natasha thought, her hand itching to grab the gun from her bag.

He wasn't acting like he had seen her yet, but she knew better than to trust that. There was no reason for him to be less than a block from her apartment building if he weren't here for her. She casually tucked herself behind the newsstand to watch him.

He leaned his back against the lamppost, arms crossed. It killed her to admit it, but the god was fit. More so than he had any right to be. He wasn't like the thickly muscled superboys that ran around SHIELD all day, but long and lean. Even his fingers, she noticed as he drummed them, were elegant. She'd seen them wreak havoc and violence, but just now they seemed more like fingers that might fly across a piano.

Loki had to suppress a massive shit-eating grin. Natasha wasn't being sloppy, but he had watched her long enough to pick up on when he was being watched versus when he was being ogled. And Agent Romanoff was teetering ever closer to the second. Now that he had her full attention, it was time to play.

Natasha saw the minute forward shift of his weight before he had taken his first step. She tensed, ready to defend against whatever he might throw at her. But instead, he turned and started walking away from her. What was he playing at? She pretended to check her cell to have a reason for suddenly setting off and she followed him.

Manhattan crowds made following someone unobtrusively much easier, so long as you weren't swept off by the mass of humanity. But Loki seemed to be making this too easy. Alarm bells went off in Natasha's head as she realized just where the god was headed.

SHIELD headquarters.

She sped up, her heels clacking faster against the pavement. The distance between them shrunk until he was maybe two arm's lengths away. They neared a small side street with little foot traffic and Natasha seized her chance.

Quick as a flash, she was alongside him, her hand hooked in his belt. She yanked as hard as she could, dragging him off balance and throwing him into the side street with her. Before he could react, she had him against the wall and her gun out of her purse, digging it up against his ribcage.

She was clever about it; anyone passing would think them lovers leaning against the wall and enjoying each other's presence.

"Why are you here?" she said, careful to keep her voice soft and her expression neutral.

"Agent Romanoff, I'm disappointed. To come back to pay you a visit, and then to be treated in this way? You wound me."

"Not yet, I haven't," she dug the gun into him a little harder, "Does Thor know you're here?"

"My brother is staying with Dr. Foster at the moment. And while he and his friends are off visiting their acquaintances on Earth, I thought it appropriate that I stop by to see mine," Loki smiled pleasantly. He seemed entirely unbothered by the gun.

"Why don't I believe that that's all you want?"

He shrugged, "What you do and don't believe is your own business, 'tasha."

"I'd rather you didn't call me that."

"And I'd rather you not treat me so ill. I have yet to even hear a 'thank you' for the flowers I left you," he saw her confusion," Or have you not noticed them yet? For shame, Natasha. You're losing your edge."

She started to say something, but froze when Loki swooped down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Her finger flew to the trigger, ready to pull it. Before she could, though, he vanished. She wobbled, her center of balance shaken, and she quickly hid the gun back in her purse. She looked around but no one seemed to have noticed either Loki's disappearance or her weapon.

Worried now, she turned and hurried back towards her apartment. She dug her phone out of her bag and hit the speed dial for Clint.

"Tasha, what's up?"

"Loki's back."

"Fuck."

"Be careful."

* * *

Back in Asgard, Loki shook with laughter. With the Allfather asleep and the realm's mightiest warriors away on holiday, he had such freedom. Already, he was plotting bigger and more daring pranks.

He peered down to see what his favorite spy was up to.

* * *

Natasha threw open the door to her apartment and, paranoid, turned every lock shut behind her. As if that could stop a god.

She scanned the apartment for signs that someone had been there, anything out of place. She looked for the flowers.

The table in the entryway was clear, the living room and the kitchen undisturbed. The credenza in the hall was littered with mail and unread reports she had been putting off, but no flowers. That only left her bedroom.

There they were. Right on the side table. Loki had been here, in her home, in her room. He had stood right beside her as she slept and she had had no idea. He was right, she really was losing her edge. She rubbed a hand against her cheek where Loki had kissed her, trying to wipe away any proof of his presence.

She snatched the flowers out of the vase and strode out of her bedroom, towards the kitchen. Breathing shallowly, erratically with anger, she mashed them down the garbage disposal and let the whirling blades do their work. Then back to her bedroom to take the vase - cut crystal. Absolutely stunning, if she were to be honest with herself - and hurl it out her window with as much force as possible. Before she closed the window after herself, she heard a shriek of tires and a long blast on a car horn, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

There was a knock at the door, and for a second she felt a cold dread that it was him, come back to torment her some more.

"Natasha, are you ok?" It was Clint. She let out an audible sigh of relief.

"Just a minute," she made quick work of the multiple locks on the door, swinging it wide to let her friend in, "Where were you coming from? You had to have run here."

"Of course I ran, after that bombshell you dropped on me? I was at work, so I told them I was taking off early. Nobody argued," he wrapped his arms around her.

They stood like that for a moment before she pulled away, too tightly wound to stay still, "Do you want any coffee? I think I need a cup. Or something else? I've got...kind of nothing in the fridge, but we could order in, or-"

"I'm not sure you need caffeine, with the state you're in."

"At this point, it's coffee or it's vodka, and of the two, I think I'm making the better choice," she measured out the grounds efficiently, methodically. It was cathartic to be doing something mindless and familiar.

Clint gave her a long look and decided that she was probably right. He hadn't seen her like this in years, and he didn't want a repeat of the aftermath from the last time. It was much easier to bribe officials to forget something had happened in Caracas than in New York.

He sat down on the couch as she leaned her elbows on the breakfast bar.

"So. You want to tell me what happened?"


	5. Chapter 5

If anyone has seen the gif of Tom Hiddleston going, "Please, behave!" that was honestly the inspiration for about half of this chapter. Also, all of the points in the land if you can tell me which BBC show I'm referencing.

* * *

He had it. The perfect idea for a trick for his dear Black Widow. It would allow her to feel revenged against him in some small way, it would infuriate her, and it might even help her to understand him to some extent. For all of his bravado, he did still find her fascinating and easily the most pleasant of the Avengers. He would not mind being on better terms with her.

But the very best part of this plan was how absurdly simple it was. Frankly, he was disappointed in himself for not having thought of it sooner.

He couldn't lead with this, though. No, Loki wanted to have a bit more build-up before the big finale.

So for the next week, he set about driving Natasha mad.

He had a bottle of very expensive vodka sent to her apartment, he played tricks on her eyes to see him everywhere - in a shop, on the subway, in her favorite BBC crime show - and he sent her the occasional dream - always good ones, of course - so that even in sleep she couldn't avoid him.

By the end of the week, Natasha felt like she might crack at the slightest provocation. Her careful grip on her emotions was growing more and more fragile, and Clint's concerned hovering, though well intended, was not helping. All she wanted at that point was to find out Loki's game.

She was about to get her wish.

But first, one final dream. Ironically, this was one that the Trickster didn't create for her. This one was all her own doing.

They were in the side street where she had dragged Loki for questioning. Once more, he was pressed against the uneven brick and she was pressed against him, her gun nestled between them.

"Why are you here?" she said, her eyes searching his for answers.

"Agent Romanoff, I'm disappointed. To come back to pay you a visit, and then to be treated in this way? You wound me."

"Not yet, I haven't," she jabbed his stomach with the barrel of the gun, "Does Thor know you're here?"

"Must you always bring other men into our conversations? I'm starting to wonder if you're even interested in me at all," he flashed a suggestive smile and leaned his head down towards her.

"What makes you think I'm interested at all?"

"This, my dear," those long fingers slipped through red waves, curled around the base of her skull. Gently, he urged her up as he leaned down to meet her mouth with his.

Her eyes widened with shock, but fell shut as an intoxicating warmth spread throughout her body. His cool lips felt wind chapped, but the kiss was so much sweeter than she had expected, and she felt the hand holding the gun drop to her side. The sound of the gun clattering on the ground registered only dimly as she went up on the balls of her feet to shrink the height gap between them.

Now that her hand was empty, it was free to twine in his thick black hair. She gave the strands a tug and Loki let out a soft groan, almost too quiet to be heard. But Natasha felt the rumble in his chest, pressed so close against her. It sent an wave of electricity through her, the knowledge that she could have that effect on a god. She grinned in triumph. Now that she knew he liked a touch of pain with his pleasure, she could use that to her advantage.

She took his bottom lip between her teeth and pulled. This time, his moan was clearly audible, and when she looked up to meet his gaze, she saw a feral delight in his green eyes. Her eyes fluttered shut again and -

The plaintive wail of a siren tore her from sleep.

She wasn't sure if she was frustrated or thankful that the dream was cut short. It would be wildly inappropriate if she were developing feelings for an enemy, she knew that. But on the other hand, it had been a while for her, and while she'd never admit it out loud, Loki was every bit as handsome as a god should be.

* * *

Natasha stared at the blank laptop screen, fingers drumming with restless energy. She had had bad spells before, but never quite like this. Normally, she pushed her way through it by burying herself in her work, or by having a random fuck. Judging by the pile of reports still left for her to go through, throwing herself into her job wasn't working, and she had a feeling that a random hookup would do nothing to exorcise the thoughts that had gripped her mind.

She cast her eyes over to her phone and debated giving Clint a call, or maybe Steve, to see if either of them were free for a sparring session. If nothing else, it would at least serve to distract her for a few hours.

Halfway through dialing Clint, she remembered that Fury had asked him to take a mission in Iceland, a quick snatch-and-grab, but it still meant he was unavailable. And Steve was out on another date with Agent 13 - Sharon, Natasha corrected herself mentally. Agents weren't agents around the clock. She smiled thinking about them. Steve deserved some happiness, and Sharon would certainly keep him on his toes.

So, it looked like another quiet evening alone. Oh, good. Natasha sighed and stepped away from her desk to fix herself dinner and take care of the pile of laundry she'd been ignoring.

* * *

Loki had just received a message from Thor saying that he, Lady Sif, and the warriors three would be extending their stay with Jane, and reminding Loki to behave himself.

Oh, Thor. You should know better than that by now, Loki drummed his fingers against his thigh in thought. With his brother and company gone, and with no sign of the Allfather coming out of the Odinsleep anytime soon, this seemed to him the perfect time to execute his plan.

He had been inside her home; it seemed only fair that she should get to see his. And who didn't love a good old-fashioned abduction?

* * *

Natasha heard the ping from the other room that meant that her laundry was done and ready to be moved to the dryer.

She added a splash more broth to the risotto and gave it a quick stir. Earlier that day, Natasha had decided she was sick of living on takeout and managed to make it to the grocery store, this time with no Asgardian interruptions.

In the laundry closet, she bent down to pull out the clothes, but they were still dripping wet and sudsy.

"Stupid machine," she said, looking up to reset the washer.

At the upper edge of her vision was a flash of black and green. Instantly, she leapt back, looking around her for something to use as a weapon.

"Honestly, is this always the sort of welcome I can expect? Natasha, you are so cruel," he sat atop the washer, cross-legged and looking delighted with himself, "And here I was so sure I could expect a rather different reception. At least, that was the impression given by that little show of yours last night."

It took her a moment to understand what he meant, and then she was livid and horrified.

"How were you able to see that? We've never found any indication of your being able to read minds before," apart from a red flush she couldn't hide, Natasha managed to hide her reaction to this violation of her privacy.

Loki shook his head, tutting at her.

"No, I cannot read minds. But haven't you been paying attention, Agent Romanoff? I do have magic," he slid down from the washer, all fluidity and grace, "And that magic is the same thing I will use to do this."

She tried to take a step back, but her body had stopped responding to her. She was frozen, trapped. Her heart thudded in her chest, so loudly that it seemed impossible for Loki to not hear it.

"I suppose now would be the time for a joke about catching the Black Widow in a web of my own," his hand rested on her hip, slid across her back to wrap around her. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, "But I have a better idea. Shall we take a trip, my dear?"

And just like that, the apartment, the smell of burning risotto, the world, everything dropped away and Natasha's vision became a blur of blinding rainbow light.


	6. Chapter 6

You guys, I'm nuts. I'd been shooting to update every four or five days. Somehow, I accidentally cranked out a whole chapter last night. So here's the next chapter, three days early, with the actual plot I've been leading up to this whole time! Whooo!

* * *

Natasha blinked her eyes shut, overwhelmed by the brilliance. The towers and spires and arches and the endlessly starry sky gleaming down on it all was enough to root her to the spot and stun her into silence. She had seen everything, she thought, and considered herself thoroughly jaded, but this was something else entirely. She was so taken aback that she didn't even notice Loki removing the spell that prohibited her motion.

"Is it not magnificent?" she felt his lips brush the shell of her ear, felt his warm breath as he whispered to her.

A shiver traveled down her spine, snapping her out of her reverie. She realized the spell on her was broken and she whirled around to face her abductor.

"What the fuck are you doing, kidnapping me? Loki, this isn't a game!"

"Isn't it?" he smirked, "I prefer to think of most everything as a game.. That way, when I succeed, I get to be the winner."

"And you think you've won me?"

"Really, Natasha, the leaps your mind makes," he said, letting out a sigh.

He reached out and twined a long, red curl around his forefinger, letting it slip off slowly. He shook his head.

"No, I have not won you. But I do intend to, my Black Widow. And when I do," his eyes were molten, glowing with liquid heat. He drew his fingertips down her cheek in a caress, "When I do, such a victory celebration we will have, you and I."

She had to concentrate on breathing evenly. She hated how deeply his words could affect her. Whether he was promising her a gruesome, painful death at the hands of her best friend or heavily implying that he had a massive hard-on for her, his words always seemed to slice through her walls and shake her to the core like no one had ever done before. She couldn't decide if it worried or thrilled her.

"And if I won't come willingly?" she said, her head held up in a show of defiance.

Loki laughed at that. A genuine laugh welling up from deep inside, shaking his sides and crinkling the skin around his eyes.

"Oh, Natasha. That is the whole point of the game. Of course you will come willingly. You will fight it, as you are now, but that will only make it all the sweeter when you finally realize that you want it every bit as much as I do. I know it, you know it. For goodness sake, Barton knows it! Why do you think he hovers so close to you? He can see his love slipping away from him."

"I'm not his love," her eyes flashed.

She could see from the triumphant smile on his face that she had said the wrong think.

"So you do not contest that you are already coming to me. Perhaps you are closer than I had previously believed."

"You arrogant-" she cut herself off, seeing strange ships filling the sky, too ugly and hulking to be of Asgard, "Loki, look."

He followed her line of sight and paled.

"Hold on," he grasped her hand tightly and took off at a run, dragging her after him.

"Who are they?" she gasped for air. Loki ran so fast that her feet felt like they weren't even touching the ground. She glanced down and saw that they really weren't. They were flying.

"No time!" the wind carried his voice back to her.

She caught blurred glimpses of a palace blazing past, banquet halls, a throne room, an endless corridor, before they skidded to a halt in an enormous bedroom draped in rich emerald and gold and cream.

"Is this your-"

"Hush!" he squeezed his eyes shut, his hands engaged in a complex dance. Strange syllables tumbled from his lips and Natasha saw an area rug begin to glow.

When the light faded, the rug was gone and in its place was a set of stairs leading down to god-knows-where.

"Come," he took her hand once more, this time far gentler, and led her down the dark stairs.

* * *

It had seemed such a marvelous plan at first. Wait until Asgard was as empty as possible, bring Natasha up, and have a bit of fun.

This was no longer fun.

He turned back to Natasha to see her glaring daggers at him. Her mouth moved furiously, but no sound came out.

"I will remove the spell, but as Asgard is under siege at the moment it is imperative that you remain _quiet_. Promise me this?"

She nodded and he saw no deceit in her expression. A small flick of his hand released the spell that kept her silent.

"Loki," she pitched her voice as low and soft as she could, "Who the fuck are we dealing with?"

"The Chitauri. I suspect they have come to enact their revenge. Something about no dark crevice or barren moon being able to hide me, should I fail to deliver them the Tesseract. Which, if you recall, is exactly what happened. So I presume they have either returned to take the Tesseract for themselves, or to murder me violently. Or both. Really, that seems the most likely."

She took it in, he could see her processing the details.

"How likely is it we'll be discovered here?"

"With a little help?" he held up a hand, tiny sparks of magic leaping between fingers, "They'll never find us. Thor and I hid here many times as children to escape lessons or avoid victims of our pranks."

"You're not a child anymore," she said, "So why are we hiding when you could - I don't know - get us out through some back route?"

He shook his head, "It would be unwise. They know all of the secret routes in and out, all of the fissures and imperfections in the walls of this realm."

"How is that?"

Loki avoided meeting her eyes. If he were to be trapped with this woman for an indefinite length of time, he would rather not begin it by enraging her. But for all his reputation as the God of Lies, he knew she would catch him if he attempted to hide the truth.

"They know because I told them."

She opened her mouth, presumably to shriek at him, but she remembered her promise to be quiet. She paused, began again.

"And your magic? Is there a reason you haven't just vanished us out of here yet?"

"That would be big magic, and I promise you that they'll be looking out for that as well. The Chitauri may not be a clever breed, but they are spectacular at following orders. Excellent foot soldiers."

"I noticed," her voice dripped with scorn, "So no back way, no magic, and no way we'd be able to fight our way out with just the two of us. Are we just waiting then? Until Thor comes back or your father wakes up?"

Loki bristled, "Adoptive father. And yes. That would appear to be our best course of action at the moment."


	7. Chapter 7

This. This was the chapter that I started the whole fic for. I'm so freaking pleased that we've finally reached this point!

* * *

Natasha was accustomed to spending hours in relative silence with nothing to do but wait. With Loki, though, it felt strange. Her fingers itched for distraction. Before her mind could wander to places she'd rather avoid, she noticed that one whole wall of their hiding place was entirely bookshelves. Eager to end what felt like an age of staring off into space, Natasha got up to investigate.

The vast majority of the dusty, leather-bound tomes were written in runes or what looked like old Icelandic. On a shelf just out of her reach, however, was a section of titles she recognized.

"Loki, a little help?" she nodded at the shelf.

"You can bring men twice your size to their knees, but a high shelf has you beaten?" he said, looking waspish.

He made a show of rousing himself from his comfortable seat and crossing the room to fetch down one of the books for her. The muted light in the room glinted off of the gold script on the cover: Twelfth Night.

"How did you know which one I wanted?"

"Lucky guess," he shrugged

It was a lie, of course. On one of his visits to Natasha's apartment, he had noticed a copy of it, the spine broken in over a dozen places, sitting on a side table. Of the maybe twenty books that Natasha owned, that was the only one that wasn't non-fiction and the only one that showed any hint of wear. Something about a master assassin soaked in the blood of countless targets loving a play about shipwrecked twins and cross-dressing and finding true love tickled him, and so he had remembered. He had a feeling he would always remember that.

She gave him a long, curious look and accepted the book, sitting down to read. She saw him take down Macbeth and they sat back down, again in silence. This time, though, it seemed a more comfortable, companionable silence.

* * *

Loki was the first to make a sound. He snapped his book shut and looked at Natasha.

"I am famished. Would you care for anything?"

She laughed, "Are you thinking of just wandering over to the kitchen? 'Excuse me, I know we're under attack and all that, and if we're being really honest, it's entirely my fault, but if you don't mind, I'd like a snack.' Somehow, I don't see that going well."

"Please remember that I _am_ known as silver-tongued," he quirked up one eyebrow, "and that I absolutely earned that title."

"Maybe one day you'll have to show me exactly how you earned it," she set down her book.

Was she actually flirting with him? Perhaps there was hope for her yet.

"Maybe one day I will," he smiled, "but today I have no intention of having to utilize that skill. No, I'm afraid it's just more magic for now."

He waved a hand and out of nowhere appeared a low table carved from pale wood. One more pass of his hand and the table was covered with food, fresh and steaming and fragrant.

"And how is this not big magic?" she gave him a skeptical look and hoped he couldn't hear the sudden, insistent growling of her stomach.

"Moving things is far simpler than creating them from nothingness. As long as they don't interfere in the kitchens, I don't imagine we'll want for food or drink," he sat on the floor, his legs stretched out under the table, and gestured for her to join him.

"This isn't like the fairy tales, is it? About eating anything under the hill? I'd rather not be trapped here forever," she said, sitting down.

"Do you really find my company that distasteful?"

She tilted her head in thought, "Once, it might have been. Now, I'm not sure."

"Well, you have yet to try to kill me," he said with a wry smile.

"True. That's a hell of a lot of progress from where we started."

He laughed and filled a glass with silvery liquid, holding it out to her. It was some kind of wine, but unlike any wine Natasha had ever tasted. They piled their plates with food and fell into easy conversation.

* * *

"-and just when we were sure that she would catch us and most likely beat us within an inch of our lives, I have the clever idea to turn us into girls. You've never seen anything funnier than Thor running in a gown, tripping over his own braids! I don't know that Fandral will ever let him forget that."

Natasha wiped tears from her eyes, her sides aching.

"So when we went to Jotunheim, even though nearly a century had passed, a single Jotun was unwise enough to mock my brother and call him 'princess'. Well, we all knew that that was all it would take to rile him."

"Now I know what to call him when he gets irritating," she laughed, then paused halfway through, "Christ, are we actually having a civil conversation?"

"It would seem that we are. And we have been for hours."

"Stockholm Syndrome," she nodded to herself, grinning, "Clearly the only explanation."

"I went to Stockholm once. Though, at the time, it was called Agnafit, and I have no memory of anything that transpired."

Natasha cocked her head to the side, curious. Loki shrugged.

"Thor and his companions dragged me there to celebrate my coming of age. I was told later that we apparently drank the town dry."

"I've met Volstagg. Somehow, I don't find that at all hard to believe," Natasha said before her mouth stretched wide with a yawn, "What time is it?"

"Time runs differently here, but you and I have been talking for the equivalent of fourteen hours on Midgard."

"Shit, no wonder I'm wiped. The trick you did with the food, do you think you could manage something similar with a bed?"

"I don't think, I know," and he closed his eyes, his hands held out before him.

Gradually, much more gradually than the food - a bed is a bit larger than a roast chicken - a bed materialized in front of them. Natasha tried to remember if it was the same bed she had seen before they had run down the stairs, if the intricately carved knot-work along the rich mahogany bedposts was the same, but she couldn't be sure. They had been in too much of a rush for her to absorb many details.

As soon as she sat down on the edge, however, she stopped caring about recognizing details. Before even laying down, while she was still taking off her boots and jeans, the bed felt like it was enveloping her, inviting her in, and the temptation to yawn again rose ever higher.

She noticed Loki's attempt to hide the fact that he was staring at her, "Is there a problem?"

"You seem decidedly comfortable undressing in my presence," he said, looking pointedly at the clothes she had set aside on the floor.

"I can't sleep in jeans," she said simply, as if stripping down to her underwear in the presence of an enemy was the most natural thing in the world. It occurred to Loki that, for Natasha, that might be true, "Will you be joining me, or are you going to poof another bed into here?"

"I doubt this room could hold another bed of this size," he began the complicated process of removing his leather and metal armor.

By the time he was ready for bed, he looked over to see Natasha already sound asleep, the rich green covers tucked right up under her chin. Her copper curls were draped across the matching pillow and caught the soft light. The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips as he pulled back one corner of the covers and slid into bed.

"Good night, Agent Romanoff."

* * *

This is the first time I'm going to actively ask for reviews. This chapter drove me insane, and I'd like to know if the insanity paid off or if there were bits that still feel weird.


	8. Chapter 8

This chapter seriously wrote itself. Probably because of all of the fantastic encouragement I had from you guys! Creeping up on 10k hits, and 50 reviews? You guys are excellent. This one is dedicated to all of my repeat reviewers!

* * *

On one side of the bed, Natasha slept easily, peacefully, the subtle rise and fall of her chest a soothing metronome. On the other side of the bed lay Loki, sleepless and transfixed.

He wasn't like Thor or Fandral, who had women flocking to them. They were bright, golden, and awash in the glory of success in battle. He had lured women to his bed mainly through guile in the past, and more often than not, it just hadn't seemed worth the effort. He wished now that he had taken the effort, that he were more experienced with women than he was. Perhaps then, he would not be so utterly taken in by the beautiful creature sleeping there.

But he hadn't, and he was, and what-ifs were immaterial now.

Her face was so familiar to him by now, but sleep wrought remarkable changes in it. She looked so much younger, less careworn. In sleep, the corners of her mouth were slightly upturned, as if she had just had a pleasant thought. He idly hoped it had something to do with him.

His eyes drifted down, past the soot-black lashes fanned across her ivory cheeks, past the creamy expanse of bare throat that cried out to be kissed, down to the gentle slope of her shoulder and the beginning of two gentle swells that lay exposed just above the edge of the covers.

With the amount of black that Natasha wore, Loki had unthinkingly assumed that everything she wore would be black. The plum-colored lace of her bra, which would have set off her sea foam eyes spectacularly if they were open, surprised and pleased him. The lace seemed so delicate, and he wondered how easily it would tear between his teeth.

Natasha sighed softly, turning her head. Loki jumped back, suddenly realizing he had moved closer in his observation. He had been hovering over her sleeping form, his breath ghosting across her skin. No wonder she had moved.

Once he was certain she was still sound asleep, he became bolder. His hand moved, almost of its own accord, to bring a silken curl closer. He had touched her hair before, but mainly to irritate her, and only ever for brief moments. Now he had unfettered access and, without her awake to question him, he brought the crimson strands to his cheek.

There was no gentle wafting of perfume that came along with it; no doubt perfume was unnecessary in her line of work. It just smelled like her, warm and fiery and full of life.

"What I would give to skip past the days to come, to reach the days when I can call you mine," he traced a finger along the plush contours of her soft mouth. Loki felt his eyelids growing heavy, "but now, Black Widow, sleep well."

* * *

Natasha woke gradually, reluctant to be past what had been the best sleep she'd had in months. It took her a moment to remember why, and where she was, and who owned the arm that had flung itself casually across her waist, the warm hand splayed against the small of her back.

And then it all came rushing back to her. She knew her first instinct ought to have been to leap from the bed, but instead, Natasha found herself smiling sleepily and curling up against her bedfellow. And without realizing the irony, she began to mimic his earlier actions.

She cast her eyes upward, strangely unsurprised at the changes she could make out between his waking face and his sleeping one. She had seen his face contorted into most every expression, but here he was relaxed. With one thumb, she delicately followed along sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw. She paused at his mouth, turned up into a tiny smile of contentment. It was such a gentle, subtle expression and she wished it were one she could see more of.

The faint dark circles under his eyes caught her attention, and she frowned. They had been there in the helicarrier too, but she had put that down to the stress of plotting a global takeover. If they were still there, then there must have been something more making the god lose sleep. She wished she knew what.

In sleep, his normally neat black hair was in disarray and, as he shifted minutely, a section of it fell across her hand. She froze, torn between the desire to stroke it and the worry that she might wake him and be caught. In her indecision, a few strands slipped and brushed his nose. He made a face, crinkling the bridge of his nose in a way that reminded Natasha of a rabbit, or possibly the woman on Bewitched.

She grinned at the thought and brushed Loki's hair back from his forehead.

She let out a startled breath when the arm around her waist suddenly constricted, pulling her tighter against him. His bare skin couldn't be much higher than room temperature, and against her heated flesh it felt blissfully cool. The thought to struggle or remove his arm from her waist never occurred to her, and she slipped back into sleep cradled against his bodies, her head nestled against his collarbone like they were sculpted to fit perfectly.

* * *

On Earth, Clint was in a panic. He had returned from Iceland to find that no one had heard from Natasha in four days. Two days he could maybe understand. But four days was an unacceptable amount of time to be out of touch. In four days, anything could happen, and yet no one had thought to go looking for the spy.

"You're seriously telling me that no one thought to call her? to go check on her? Nothing?" he could feel his blood pressure skyrocketing as he shouted at Tony and, since he was in the room, Banner.

"C'mon, Hawk. Your girlfriend does pretty much what she wants. How do we know she isn't just busy?" Tony tried to placate the archer.

"Loki's back."

Clink looked up to see their reactions. Bruce paused, setting down what he was working on and taking off his glasses.

"Does Fury know?" he asked.

Here, Barton looked ashamed. He hadn't reported it officially because - and he would never admit this to Natasha - he hadn't been sure he believed her. She had become obsessed with the god, dreaming about him and talking about him nonstop. It hadn't seemed surprising that she had progressed to thinking she saw him. He shook his head that he hadn't.

"And we're assuming he's connected?"

"For fuck's sake, Hawkeye, you didn't think that was important that a super-psycho was out prancing around New York again?" Tony said, exasperated, "Let's go check her apartment, make sure she's really gone."

* * *

Clint dug his spare key out of its hiding place in his car and bolted up the stairwell.

"Hey!" Tony shouted as he sprinted off to catch up with the man.

Eleven flights later, Clint was fitting key after key into the multiple deadbolts on Natasha's door, thankful that his experience as an archer allowed him to keep a steady hand when he could feel the fear rising, bitter and sour in his throat. He grasped the door handle and pushed, growling in frustration when it only went two inches. He saw the chain drawn across the gap.

He could hear Tony muttering behind him and suddenly, there was a foot flying at the door. With a harsh crack, the door swung open, the chain hanging useless.

"And that's how we do it in New York," he grinned and stepped into the apartment. That grin quickly fell off, though, when he looked around, "Do you smell something?"

Two smells, of sour dairy and of something having burned, hung in the air. But there was something else too. If Clint had to try to identify it, he would guess that it smelled like electricity, though what that meant, he couldn't explain. His eyes drifted towards the kitchen. On the stove was a sauté pan with blackened grains of what might have been rice glued to the bottom. On the counter next to it were cream and a cutting board with what was most likely grated cheese. This wasn't right.

"Get Thor," he said quietly, his hands now shaking at his sides.

Tony recognized this was not the time for a quip and, nodding, slipped on a wristband and leapt from Natasha's window.

* * *

All the Loki feels! Some for Natasha, and some for this author, and some for you!


	9. Chapter 9

If you got a double alert about this chapter, it's because ffnet decided to pitch a fit and delete it after I posted it, so I had to repost.

I wanted so badly for this chapter to be shameless fanservice. And then, halfway through, Clint was all "Lol, nope" and decided to be a big ol' cockblock. Thanks a lot, Clint. You're a pal.

* * *

Loki wondered if he ought to wake the woman sleeping at his side. It was late in the morning now, but there was nothing pressing to which she needed to attend. And he was loathe to pass up this rare opportunity to simply watch her without interruption or fear of judgment. He rolled over onto his stomach and propped his head up on one hand to improve his vantage point.

The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest was so soothing, and her barely parted lips so unguarded and guileless. He felt a surge of protectiveness towards the redhead that he couldn't recall ever having felt towards anyone before.

"Is this love, Agent Romanoff?" he whispered with a lopsided grin, "It's almost a pity, you know. Lust is so much more easily dealt with. But you have yet to make anything easy for me, Natasha. I can't imagine this will be any different."

"Hmm?" she sighed, turning her head and slowly opening her eyes, "Did you say something?"

Loki hid his disappointment well, "Good, you're awake. I had wondered when you would grace me with your presence. I've been laying here, teetering on the brink of starvation," he softened it with a laugh.

Natasha yawned, rolling her eyes, "Sorry, your highness. You could have had toast. No one stopped you."

"And how rude would that have been?" he said, "eating before my guest had even risen? You must think me wholly without manners."

"Well, you did brainwash my friend, threaten to kill me, wipe out about half of a major city, and kidnap me," she said, ticking each item off on her fingers.

"I hardly think any of that falls under manners," he scoffed, and after a flick of his hand, the table was again filled with food.

There were fresh breads and more wine and heaps of fruit. Natasha gave Loki a curious look.

"Is there a reason for the four platters of strawberries? Seriously, there's at least eight times more strawberries than anything else on that table."

"I enjoy them," he said simply, before getting up to fill two plates with food. Predictably, his was predominately the small red fruits. He brought them back to the bed and handed one of the plates to Natasha.

"Wow, breakfast in bed," she smiled, "I bet you do this for all the girls you abduct."

"Shockingly, no," and with that, he sank his teeth into the first of his strawberries, closing his eyes and practically moaning with pleasure.

Natasha felt her face grow hot. She was certain her cheeks were bright red, probably clashing with her hair. God of Mischief? More like god of weirdly erotic food fixations. She reached to sneak one from his plate, but his eyes opened and a hand caught her wrist, his fingers wrapping around to hold her there.

"If you wanted one, you need only have asked," he said, smirking. He held one out to her and an idea popped into Natasha's head.

She leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the berry at the top, just barely grazing his fingertips. She locked her eyes with his and slowly withdrew, then moved back up, shamelessly obvious in what she was imitating. If he thought he could spend weeks on end tormenting her with no repercussions, he was in for a rude awakening. At last, she took the fruit into her mouth as she saw his cheeks flame red.

"Delicious," she smiled sweetly.

He sat there, unmoving, his hand still extended. Natasha saw an opportunity to take it a little farther. She took his hand in her delicate grasp, drawing it closer. Just like with the berry before, she took each finger one by one and pulled them into her mouth, sucking every hint of juice from his cool skin.

Loki stared at her, unblinking, and she was vaguely concerned that she might have broken him. Then she saw him gulp, saw his Adam's apple bob, and she felt triumph bubble up inside. She glanced down and noticed the extremely obvious bulge barely hidden beneath the sheet and the triumph was swept away by a wave of lust.

Just what had she gotten herself into?

* * *

"Stark, Rogers, Banner, you all understand the plan? Thor's in charge of getting us into Asgard, but once we're there, we have no idea what we'll be up against. There's no way of knowing just what Loki will have waiting for us. Our main objective is to find Natasha and extract her with minimal bloodshed. If at all possible, Thor will try to lure Loki away so we can get her without having to engage him at all. Keep in mind that that's extremely unlikely, though," Clint was doing a good job of keeping his fear at bay, but even as he laid out the mission for his teammates, he could feel it waiting at the back of his mind.

Steve may have been used to being in charge, but he must have sensed how important this was to Clint, because he listened and nodded attentively along with Bruce. Even Tony kept the quips to himself.

"I must warn you," Thor said, "until you are accustomed to this form of travel, it can be unsettling. Brace yourselves."

And with no more warning than that, the men were sent hurtling, tumbling, through what seemed like an endless kaleidoscope. When they finally landed, it took them a second or two to readjust to being on solid ground, so it was Thor who first noticed it.

"This cannot be right. How did the Chitauri come to be here?

* * *

Suddenly, Loki sat bolt upright. The movement jostled Natasha and shook her from her thoughts. She looked at him, blushing furiously.

"Loki?"

"They've returned!" he threw back the covers and darted to the door.

By the time Natasha had processed what he said, he had already shifted his sleep clothes into his leather and armor. He adjusted his horned helmet until he was satisfied he was battle-ready.

"I'm coming with you."

Loki shook his head, "No. I cannot have anyone discovering that I've been to Earth, and they must never know that I've brought back a souvenir from the journey. No, you must stay here."

He didn't want to tell her the real reason he was so against her joining him in battle. Over the time they had been together, his fascination with the woman had grown into fondness, affection even. He knew she could hold her own in battle, but it still made him uneasy.

She opened her mouth to argue.

"Do not dispute this, Natasha. I am not above using magic to lock you in here."

He could see her considering it. After a moment she nodded, but her mouth was set in a deep frown. Loki wanted to lighten the mood.

"Before I march off to war, come give us a kiss, hmm?" his lips stretched into a wide grin.

"You're incorrigible, you know. Has anyone ever told you that?" She stood and crossed the room to him, rolling her eyes.

"It has come up once or twice."

He was wondering if she was just having him on when her slender fingers curled around his collar and dragged him to her face level. He could almost taste the coming laughter on her lips, could feel the sudden dissipation of the tension that had been building over the days of their captivity.

She slid one hand from his collar up to his jaw and the other to tangle in his coal-black hair as the laughter died in her throat. Instead, it felt like her heart had shoved its way up there to take its place. She felt his arms wind their way around her, drawing her flush against the cold smoothness of his armor and the dizzying warmth beneath.

He heard a tiny, pleading sound escape her lips and his mind went utterly blank for a brief and blissful moment before she froze, rigid, and pulled away.

He wondered if his eyes were as wide as hers, his pupils as dilated. He wondered if her stomach felt as knotted and jittery as his.

"Well, off you go. Save the day or whatever," Natasha said, sitting down on the corner of the bed and trying to hide her ragged breathing.

"Right," and with an unsteady grin and a flourish of his cape, he vanished.

Natasha sat in silence for a few minutes, fighting the girlish impulse to touch her fingers to her still-tingling lips.

"What the hell was that?"


	10. Chapter 10

Guys, try not to hate Clint too much in this chapter and in future chapters. He's a massive cockblock and hates Loki, but remember that he's got a really good reason to hate him. His heart's in the right place.

* * *

"Do you think they're here for Loki?" Clint asked.

Thor nodded grimly, "Either as allies or to collect a debt owed, they are almost certainly here for him.

"Sealing off a universe and detonating a nuke in it just isn't what it used to be," Tony said, "You all ready for round two?"

Steve took his shield from his back and gripped it tightly, "Whether we're ready or not, I get the feeling round two's coming for us."

He was right. A group of the Chitauri had spotted them standing on the bridge and were rushing towards them. Thor spun his hammer, Tony powered up his weapons system, and Clint had an arrow nocked and ready. Bruce let out a low growl as he suddenly erupted in green muscles.

Battle descended upon them. They could barely keep track of each other in the melee. There would be a flash of light from Tony, the whoosh of arrows flying. Mjolnir shot through the air, always meeting flesh with sickening crunching sounds. A blur of green would fly by, followed by panicked shrieks from the Chitauri.

Steve was stuck in a brawl with three of them. The super soldier lashed out with punches and jabs and kicks, using his shield both to block and to strike. He wasn't invincible though, and the odds weren't in his favor. The Chitauri were landing plenty of hits too and the captain felt the injuries adding up. Then, the one directly in front of him suddenly sprouted an arrow from his forehead. He looked confused before crumpling to the ground. The other two followed almost immediately.

"Thanks, Barton," but the archer had already run off.

Clint sprinted towards the Hulk. He used him as a ramp, darting up his back and leaping off of his shoulders to put his arrows through another two Chitauri heads.

"Brother!" Thor's voice cut through the din.

Heads snapped towards where Thor was looking and, for a second, everything paused. Loki stood there in full battle regalia, his spear in his hands and a manic grin on his face. In the blink of an eye, there were dozens of him, each engaging two or more of the Chitauri.

The Avengers threw themselves into battle with renewed energy, silently agreed that as long as he was fighting with them instead of against, their confrontation could wait.

"Thor, what took you so long?" one Loki laughed as he tricked a group of the aliens into running right off the edge of the bridge.

"You missed me, did you?"

"I wouldn't go so far as that," they stood back to back, fending off their enemies, and it felt almost like old times.

It seemed like hours had passed, when in reality it couldn't have been more than one. Loki's and the Avengers' energy was flagging though. There were still so many Chitauri remaining. Too many.

"Thor, you've started without us!" a woman's voice rang out.

"That really was abominably rude," a man this time.

Lady Sif and the Warriors three were coming down the bridge at a full gallop, weapons drawn and ready. Thor let out a whoop of joy as his friends eagerly threw themselves into the fray.

The new blood was exactly what they needed, and they found the strength to herd all of the remaining Chitauri to the edge of an outcrop. All of the Loki clones came together to surround them, shouting spells to weaken the earth.

"Now, Thor! Stark! Hulk!" he cried out.

They understood what he meant, and with a smash, a blast, and a ringing blow of a hammer, the outcrop plummeted into the black, taking with it the last of their enemies.

The dozens and dozens of Lokis began to vanish, one by one, like candle flames being snuffed out. Finally, there remained only one. He was on the ground, sunken down to his knees, his frame curved inward with exhaustion. That had been very draining magic, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep through the searing pain shooting throughout his entire body. It didn't look like he was going to get his wish though, judging by the blurry figure stomping towards him.

"Now, where the fuck are you hiding her, bastard?" it was the archer.

"Barton! Do not speak to him so. He just aided us in battle, and he is still my brother."

Ah. And that was Thor.

"Your brother, my ass, Thor! The fight's over. He's got Natasha somewhere and I need to find her now!"

"Barton, you want to calm down right about now?"

That would be the Captain, trying to keep his allies in line. Loki looked up and found Thor's concerned gaze, shutting out the angry chatter of the others.

"Thor. She's safe. In our old place."

Even speaking hurt at that point. He saw comprehension break across Thor's face and the god nodded, "Thank you, brother. Are you well enough to come with me? I cannot open it without you."

Loki tried to stand but every muscle in his body shrieked in protest. He shook his head that no, he couldn't move. Not under his own steam, anyway. Thor understood and scooped him up gingerly. This was what finally caught the attention of the other Avengers.

"Are we taking him somewhere?" Tony asked while Steve put a warning hand on Clint's shoulder.

"He is the only one who has access to the room where Natasha is staying. You need not worry; she is perfectly safe. Loki and I hid in that very room many times as children," he turned and led the way, his brother cradled in his arms.

* * *

"It's about damn time, Loki! What happened? Are you all ri - What?" Natasha noticed what the god of thunder had in his arms a moment later, "Loki! Thor, is he ok?"

Thor set him down on the bed and in an instant, Natasha was at his side checking for broken bones, internal bleeding, anything she could think of.

"He will be fine after he gets some sleep. In battling the Chitauri, he overexerted himself and tapped into deeper magic than he ought. This is not the first time he has done this. He knows full well that he absorbs the damage done to each of his clones, but still he uses them."

She jumped at the touch of a hand on her arm.

"Nat?" Clint searched her face, "You want to tell us what's going on here?"

She winced, unsure how to explain, "It's a little...complicated."

"Simplify it."

It had been years since she had seen him like this. It was uncomfortably like the old days, before he trusted her. She had hated those days and was glad that they were behind her. From the hurt look on his face though, Natasha wondered if they really were behind her after all.

"It was a stupid prank, boys. He took me up here as a joke. He didn't expect the Chitauri to show up, or else he never would have brought me here. Loki may be a bag of cats, but he's not an idiot."

"Could have fooled me."

"Barton, you're not helping," Steve said, his face disapproving, "Natasha, did he do anything to harm you? Or try to get any intel from you?"

She shook her head, "No. We've basically been camping out here waiting for the cavalry. There was no way the two of us could take out an entire army, no matter how much magic he has at his disposal," she looked at him, asleep on the bed, "which looks like it wasn't enough even with you guys."

Seeing the way she looked at him made something in Clint's gut twist. Everything about this just felt wrong. She was his closest friend and suddenly, it was like he didn't know her at all. Loki had to have done something to her. He was about to speak up when Thor cut in.

"Loki requires rest, and Natasha seems to be in perfect health. I will stay here to look after my brother. Heimdall can easily send you all on your way home safely," he grinned, "It was an honor to share another battle with you, my friends. Until we meet again."

"Thor, do you think I could stay and help?" Natasha asked, "Since it's kind of my fault you guys are here in the first place."

Clint stepped forward, about to protest, when Tony did it for him.

"Better not, Romanoff. If I know Fury - and I do - I can guaran-damn-tee that he'll want a full debriefing the second we touch ground. We'll need you for that."

She nodded. She followed her teammates out of the room, but not without one final glance over her shoulder at Loki, sound asleep on their bed.


	11. Chapter 11

So, I know I updated yesterday, but I started working on this and I accidentally the whole chapter. If you stalk the Tom Hiddleston corner of Tumblr, you might recognize chunks of this from when I posted the first draft on Hiddle-Stoner's blog. Don't worry, there's been a ton of edits and changes and lots of lovely extras added since that.

ALSO. Anon reviewers, let me love youuuu! I get such wonderful feedback from some anonymous reviewers, and I have no way to tell you that you're making my day over here!

Also, this is the chapter where we** earn** our M rating. Mhmm.

* * *

Natasha staggered into her apartment, exhausted from Fury's debriefing. Had it just been Fury, it wouldn't have been so bad. But no. That would have been way too easy. No, Clint had insisted he sit in.

That had made retelling certain parts of the story...awkward.

She knew Clint still had feelings for her. She'd have to be blind to miss that. But they had agreed that if they were going to both be part of the Avengers Initiative, then they needed to put feelings aside and stay just friends.

So she had edited.

She let out a sigh of relief to finally be home and stepped into her bedroom, expecting to be able to fall down on her bed and not have to think for a few hours.

Instead, she found a god of mischief sitting on the bed, looking decidedly mischievous.

"You care to explain what you're doing here?" she asked as she eased off her boots and flung them into the open closet.

"We have unfinished business, you and I," his eyes gleamed in the fading orange light spilling in through the windows.

"Do we? You kidnapped me, we beat the baddies, I came home," she moved further into the room," No, seems to me like that's business well finished."

He saw the resolution in her face, but heard the waver in her voice, could practically taste the desire rolling off of her body.

"I told you that you would fight, and you have, and that you would choose to come to me, and you will. You desperately want to," suddenly he was up off the bed and only inches away from her, "And you'll wonder how you ever resisted at all."

He smelled like crisp winter air and electricity, and tremors shot through Natasha as his cool breath brushed along her throat.

"Saying it won't make it true, Loki," she turned her face up to meet his gaze, her expression flashing with defiance.

"Oh, Natasha," his arm snaked around her and brought her in towards him, "let's leave the lying to me."

Slowly, slowly, giving her every chance to turn away and resist, he leaned down to brush his lips against hers. He drew back just enough to look her in the eye before swooping back down to claim her mouth again.

Those eyes. Natasha felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. When he had pulled away there had been a maelstrom of conflicting feelings in his face, plain as day. Fear and affection and hope and _want_ that lit a fire in her, burning away any doubts she had left.

She parted her lips to let him in. She felt his tiny groan of delight echo into her own mouth and suddenly, she had flipped a switch in them. What had started gently became wild, raw, desperate. Fingers tore at clothes, untucking and unzipping. Buttons went flying and hands skated over smooth, pale skin to remove obstacles as fast as possible.

If anyone had told her a year ago that she would be here now, aching with anticipation, she would have laughed in their faces. Hell, two months ago, even. She still wasn't sure if she knew why the hell she was here. But then she saw the light of the sun sinking behind the New York skyline and spilling out onto the hardwood of her bedroom floor. Saw the shadow cast in it, saw the man.

Ordinarily, Loki was impressive. Backlit and naked, he was magnificent. And he knew it, judging from the lazy smile that made her breathing shaky. They crossed the room in an instant. He brought one knee up onto the bed, his torso extending over her. Less than a foot away from kissing her again, he paused.

"This doesn't make me your lover. We're not making a habit of this."

"What makes you think I want that?" and before he could answer, she dove a hand into thick black locks and yanked him back down to her.

There was nothing gentle about this, nothing hesitant or shy. Together there, intertwined on her bed, it would have been ridiculous. They weren't inexperienced children who needed to be delicate with each other. They were a mad god and a broken assassin, but their jagged edges fit together so perfectly that it almost seemed worth all of the splinters and cracks.

Another time, Natasha might have been overwhelmed by a need to control the situation, to throw him down and take the lead. Another time, she might have fought when he wrapped his long fingers around her wrists and trapped her hands above her head with a devious smile. But tonight, with him, she didn't want to have to lead anymore. She was ready to be led. And there was a softness in Loki's face when he looked at her, a fondness that still seemed so incongruous with so much of what she knew about the god. Thought she knew. The Loki she had come to know during their time in hiding, though... She wondered if the God of Lies knew that he was lying to himself.

Loki gazed down at the woman he held in his arms. He could not begin to explain why she was so important to him, how she held so much sway over his every thought. He was just awed that, after so much time spent fixated on her, here she was. Every desperate whimper as he dragged his teeth along her throat, every urgent, pleading thrust of her hips against his, every fruitless attempt to free her hands to touch him: it was his doing. This brilliant, sensual creature could have had anyone, and of that selection she chose him.

Of course, he helped her make the decision.

He moved up along her body and nipped the rim of her ear. He delighted in the soft, guttural sound she made. He hovered there until he had his breathing under control.

"Would you like me to continue?" he teased

"Now," she said, shooting him a dirty look.

Loki took his cue to slide down until his face was on level with her breasts. He pressed a slow, warm, open-mouthed kiss between them before continuing down, leaving a trail of kisses along the way. He reached her underwear, plain black silk. For a moment, he admired the stark contrast between the black silk and the ivory expanse of her skin. But enough of that. With his free hand, he tore the fabric from her body-

"Hey!"

"Hush."

-and lay kiss after biting, lust-driven kiss along her inner thighs and the soft ridges of her hipbones. He delighted in every impatient twitch of her body. She wanted him to hurry up, but he had waited so long to have her like this. It would be unfair for her to get her way immediately.

With lips and teeth, warm flesh and ice cold breath, he set to torturing her. He found places where she was ticklish - along her hipbones, the undersides of her breasts, the backs of her knees - and nipped and sucked until that perfect creamy skin was marred with red splotches that would turn purple by morning. And once he had wrung every needy whimper and desperate plea from those lips, he descended.

"I recall a promise made to show how I earned the title Silver-Tongued?"

She nodded frantically, incoherent with anticipation, and he flashed a quick smile before throwing himself into the task at hand: unraveling this magnificent woman.

As he lavished every inch with careful attention, Natasha thrashed and moaned like a seer overtaken by visions too immense for a human mind. Loki felt a warm rush of pride and pleasure that he could reduce her to this. His hands gripped her hips, keeping her from bucking too high. He knew she would have ten tiny bruises tomorrow, and he delighted in it. There was something wonderfully animalistic about marking her. He wanted to leave more marks, to erase any doubt that she was his from now until the day she died.

He felt her nearing her peak and pulled away. Before she could finish her cry of disappointment, he had shot up and sealed her mouth with his. Savagely, he worried at her lips until a tiny drop of blood rose to the surface. He licked it away, his moan a deep rumble in his throat.

Natasha dove her fingers into his hair and dragged him back to eye level, "Loki, if you don't fuck me now, I'm going to shoot you."

He laughed openly at that, ecstatic that he had found such a dazzling creature to claim as his own.

"As you wish," he said simply, before aligning himself and plunging in deep.

So suddenly and wonderfully _full_, Natasha felt her whole body screaming how right this felt. Or was that her? Was she screaming? She couldn't even tell anymore, and as they established a rhythm of push and pull and rise and fall, she found she didn't give a fuck. So long as she could say like this forever, her legs draped over his thighs and his brow set with such intense concentration, she didn't care who heard them.

"Oh, my god," she panted.

"Yours," he said. He cradled her cheek in his hand and leaned down to kiss her, but this time there was none of the savagery of their previous kisses. She could taste the longing on his tongue, could see it in green eyes when he pulled back and breathed, almost too soft to hear, "Mine?"

There was something so vulnerable and innocent about the way his brows knitted together as his eyes searched hers for the answer.

"Yours," she said as she threw her arms around his neck and dragged him down for another kiss.

His face lit up and split into a smile. For a moment, she was captivated, reminded once again of the fact that this man was anything but ordinary, that there were no men like him. Almost immediately though, he thrust into her with a fresh burst of passion and she threw her head back, certain this time that the shrieks of ecstasy she heard were hers.


	12. Chapter 12

I HAVE GOT TO STOP DOING THIS. You guys, I think this is the last time I'll be doing the 24 hour update thing. These were the chapters I had bits done from aaages ago, when I was supposed to be writing those earlier chapters. But you all have been so outrageously amazing in all of your feedback (100+ reviews? Say whaaa?) that I didn't have the heart to space these out and make you wait like I probably should have done.

Side note: Henry IV. Damn. All that leather and Shakespeare and Tom Hiddleston? Finally, the fangirl and the literature scholar agree. Daaayyyum.

So here's some lovely morning sex and some dramaaa.

* * *

When she woke the next morning, Natasha could still feel the tiny jolts of pleasure thrumming through her, faint echoes compared to what she had felt the night before. She smiled at the sight before her.

Somehow, in the middle of the night, Loki had stolen the sheet and the duvet all for himself and made a little cocoon. All that was visible was half of one leg, which he had hooked around her, one hand, its fingers intertwined with hers, and about a third of his face. If it hadn't been the sweetest thing she'd seen, she would have been annoyed with him.

She gave his hand a squeeze, "Loki, I'm cold. Move."

He blinked sleepily at her, his eyes still unfocused. He murmured something and held his arms out to her. Instead of unwinding to share the covers, he dragged her across the bed to wrap himself around her, using her like a hot water bottle. Within moments, his eyes were closed again and his breathing had evened out.

Tempting as it was, the idea of succumbing to sleep in Loki's arms, she was wide awake now. And if she had to be awake, she wasn't going to let him sleep in and leave her bored. Natasha tilted her head up and latched onto his neck, sucking at his Adam's apple, then moving to his pulse point. One of her hands crept down along his body, gently pinching a nipple before following the faint, downy trail of fuzz to her destination.

He was half hard already, and she took a moment to admire it. Last night had been a bit rushed and she hadn't had time to really appreciate the god in all his naked glory. She formed a loose fist and began stroking along his length as her eyes raked his sleeping form up and down.

He was long and lithe and impossibly, breath-takingly beautiful. There were a few slim, pale scars here and there that only enhanced it, because it was proof that he was real. She smiled at the light dusting of freckles along his arms and shoulders and pressed feather-light kisses to them.

She was careful to go slowly and to very gradually build up. She didn't want him waking before she was ready. Finally, he was fully erect. She heard him stirring; he would be awake in a moment. It was now or never.

She shifted herself until she was straddling his hips. With one hand, she guided him just barely inside of her. She took a deep breath and dropped.

"By all the gods, you mad woman!"

"Good, you're up," she said, trying to sound cheeky, but it came out as a ragged gasp as she bucked up and down.

He felt her spasm around him and threw his head back, knocking into the headboard. His moan turned into a yelp and then back again as Natasha rode him, her eyes screwed shut and her jaw slack with pleasure.

"You will be the death of me, Natasha."

"Shush," she leaned down to kiss him, gasping into his mouth from the change in angle.

He let out a deep, throaty growl and took two hands to clutch her hips before they slid to cup her ass.

"Promise you'll always wake me like this."

She nodded, her lips smiling too widely to kiss him properly. She rocked against him faster and faster until, this time, it was Loki shouting mangled nonsense syllables until they heard a pounding from the apartment below.

When Natasha came, it was like firecrackers exploding, like an electrical surge in her core and immediately behind her eyes. For a second, her vision was black and white snow and she fell back against the bed, Loki falling on top of her, his breathing like a locomotive against her throat.

* * *

Natasha was lost in thought, curled up on the sofa with a book propped on her knees, when there was a sudden, insistent banging on her door.

"Nat, we need to talk," Clint's voice carried through. He didn't sound happy.

She set the book down, crossing the room quickly to let in her friend, "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Just answer me one thing," he said, "Just...explain to me what exactly happened between you and that _monster_. Explain to me why you didn't kill him on sight. And for the love of god, 'tasha, explain to me why you made excuses for what he did."

Natasha shoved the door shut, "Why I made excuses - Clint, are you hearing the words coming out of your mouth? You were out for blood and Loki didn't even do anything wrong this time!"

"So kidnapping you counts as 'nothing wrong' now?"

"Ok, so he pulled a stupid stunt, but this isn't like last time. He wasn't trying to kill anyone or enslave anyone."

"You went with him willingly, didn't you?" she could hear the hurt in his voice, see the pain in his face.

"Not exactly, but-"

"Here you go again! 'But.' You're defending him! What spell has he got you under that suddenly, you're throwing your oldest friend aside to fuck a psychopath who promised he would use me to murder you!" his face was bright red now, "Please, please explain that to me, because I've tried to understand it and I can't. I just can't."

Natasha stood there, silent. She should have known better than to hope everything would work itself out. After a long pause, she looked up to meet Clint's pleading gaze.

"Because I understand him. You don't know what it's like to find out that everything you know about yourself is a lie. You can't begin to grasp how it feels to find out that your whole life is a story made up by someone else and perpetuated by everyone you love. And he's not pure evil. He's broken and miserable and angry and I can't hate him for that."

"I don't want to hate him," she added, almost like an afterthought.

Clint's face twisted with hurt; she could tell he saw this as a betrayal but she couldn't bring herself to apologize. She didn't think she needed to. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and shook his head. With one last look over his shoulder at her, he walked out, closing the door behind him.

Natasha sat back down on the couch and drew her knees up to her chest. This was the first of several confrontations she had known would come from her new relationship with Loki. She took deep breaths to calm herself and hoped desperately that, eventually, they would come to accept it. If she were honest with herself, though, she had a hard time seeing it ever happening.

* * *

Loki appeared in Natasha's apartment, hoping to catch her by surprise. He grinned to himself, thinking how differently he meant that phrase now than he would have just a few months ago. When he saw her on the couch, huddled in the corner like a child, the smile evaporated.

"Natasha? Are you all right? What's the matt - " he paused, sniffed the air.

The archer. He had been here.

"So, Barton paid you a visit? Was it business or pleasure?"

Natasha looked up at him, "Seriously? You really think that little of me, that the second you leave, I'd go fuck Clint? What reason have I possibly given to make you think I'm that easy?"

"As you have not left on a mission, I can only assume he was here on a personal matter," Loki said, refusing to budge or let the topic change.

"You want to know why he was here?" she said, glaring up at him, "He was here because he's worried about me. He's worried that you've done something to me like what you did to him, that you've got some sort of spell on me that's making me trust you, making me want you."

"And? Do I?" he scoffed.

"I don't know, Loki! I don't know. All I know is that none of this makes sense and that I'm about to lose my best friend because I literally cannot stop thinking about you. And that scares me," she took a deep breath and looked him dead in the eyes, "Everyone thinks I'm this wall of ice because I know how to hide what's going on in my head, but all that's going on in there is you! I hate it."

"You hate it," his voice was flat.

"Yes."

"Because it frightens you, or because it frightens _him_?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Not everything is about Clint!"

"Perhaps you should break off ties with him."

"What? No!"

His eyes were steely, his voice cold, "I should not have phrased that as a suggestion. Outside of your work, you will cut all ties with the archer."

He didn't realize what he had just done. All he knew was that Barton was a tool he had used and lost, and now the man was threatening to take away the first bright spot in his life since everything had gone wrong. He didn't want Natasha to leave him, to come to hate him or see him as the monster that he was. But in trying to save the one bright spot in his life, he had threatened the one stable point in Natasha's life.

"Or what, Loki? What will you do? _I don't belong to you. _You talk big, but you have yet to actually do anything to me. I don't think you have the stomach," Natasha stepped forward, high on adrenaline, "You put on a good show for the others, but I can see right through your song and dance, _Silver-tongue_. Underneath it all, you're just a jealous little boy acting out because everyone loves your brother more than they do you. And who could blame them?"

She sneered up at him, her chest now only inches from his, "After all, Thor is stronger. He isn't petty and jealous. And it's no competition who's handsomer."

That final sentence was what snapped Loki's restraint. He snarled and threw her against the wall, held her there with a hand clamped around her neck.

"Do not mistake my self-control for weakness, Natasha. I do not kill you because you intrigue me, but have a care in how far you push me. That will not save you forever. The instant you outlive your usefulness, I can lay waste to you with very little effort," he shook with rage.

"Or I could have my way with you here and now," his eyes were wild as he pressed up flush against her, his teeth bared in a feral grin, "and despite how clever you are, I could make it so you had no way of escaping. I could make it so you forgot you ever wanted to. And you _would _ belong to me. I-"

He saw her eyes glazing and her head drooping and panicked. Immediately, he released her throat and she began to slide down the wall. He caught her in his arms and held her as she gradually regained consciousness.

"Glad we're finally being honest," she said, her voice scratchy.

He set her down on her bed and watched over her from his spot at the far corner. He didn't trust himself to touch her again. Not just yet.


	13. Chapter 13

So, I lied. I can see you're all very surprised. Let the 24 hour updates continue! ...at least until I stop being insane. There's really no telling when that will happen.

* * *

Before Natasha even opened her eyes, the sounds of city life dragged her from sleep. She pulled a pillow over her ears, confused that they were so much louder than usual. When she gave up hiding and peered out from beneath the pillow, she saw why.

Sitting in the windowsill, the pane pushed up to leave the window wide open, was Loki.

"Get out."

"Natasha, I - "

"Get. Out," she fixed her eyes on him, steely and unforgiving.

"Will you listen to what I have to say?" he asked, refusing to be cowed.

She let out a frustrated sigh and threw back the covers. Clearly, he wasn't taking a hint. Instead of bothering to argue with him, she walked out of her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Halfway to the kitchen, she heard the door open and close again. She ignored him as he stood against the bedroom door, looking pitiful, in favor of starting up a pot of coffee.

"You're being a child," he said finally.

Natasha snapped, slamming her mug against the counter hard enough to break off the handle.

"I'm being a child? _I'm_ being a child? I'm not the one who tried to strangle someone because I didn't get my way!" she hissed at him, "You're only proving everything I said true."

He winced at that, but she continued.

"I'm done asking, and I'm done dealing with your shit. Get out now."

Loki felt like she had punched him in the throat. Then, he saw the purpleish black marks around her throat and wished she had punched him, if only to alleviate some small measure of the guilt he felt. He nodded silently and vanished from her apartment.

Alone in her kitchen, she looked down at the broken mug and grumbled as she reached for a new one.

* * *

It was late afternoon when she heard a knock on her door.

"Loki, if that's you, I swear I'm going to shoot the first body part I see," she said.

"Then I guess it's a good thing it's Steve," Rogers' voice came through the door, "since I'm pretty attached to my body parts, Miss Romanoff."

She could hear him chuckle as she undid the chain slide to let him in.

"I came to see if you were still doing alright after your time in Asgard. Agent Barton seemed pretty rattled after he talked to you yesterday. I decided that it would be best if I were the one to check up on you today. Though, if you're threatening bodily harm, I think it's safe to say something's up."

Damn Steve and his all-American smile. She did not feel like dealing with anyone right now, but she didn't have the heart to send him packing.

"Well, you're not wrong," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

The smile dropped and Steve's eyes widened when he saw the marks on her neck, "How did those happen? Was it Loki or Barton?"

"You have to ask?"

"Like I said, he was rattled. I'd never seen him like that before."

They stood like that, in silence, for several moments before Steve asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Hell no," she laughed.

"Then would you like to go get a drink?"

"Captain Rogers, are you asking me out?" she asked, half teasing and half intrigued.

"I just thought, seeing as you spent days cooped up, you'd like to be outside somewhere," he said.

Ever the gentleman. She held out her hand and replied, "Lead the way, Cap'."

* * *

"I'm not saying you should forgive him everything - "

"Good, because I wasn't going to."

" - but don't stay too mad for too long. I can't believe I'm saying this, but he really does care about you," Steve said, signalling the bartender for two more drinks. Whiskey sour for him and cognac for her.

Natasha gave him a curious look, "Are we talking about the same guy here? Tall, dark, and occasionally homocidal?"

"You can't tell?" he asked, "If he had been any more obvious, I think Stark would have picked up on it."

"Ok, now I know we're talking about two different people," she said as she accepted the fresh drink, "Loki and I are... I don't know what I should call it, but we're definitely not soppy in love."

Steve shook his head.

"I didn't say you were. I said he cares about you. Maybe you're too close to the situation to see it, but he looks at you the way I look at - looked at..." he trailed off, looking like he regretted starting that train of thought.

"You don't have to say it. But trust me, you're misreading something."

"You should trust me, Natasha. I don't think I am," he finished the last of his drink and smiled, "Anyway, just think about what I said. Don't keep him in the doghouse so long that he convinces himself to do something stupid."

* * *

Natasha flipped through the channels idly, barely paying attention to what she was looking at. Her thoughts were caught up in what Steve had said earlier.

It was ridiculous, of course. At best, she and Loki were fuck buddies. There wasn't room for a lot of emotions complicating things in her life, and that's how she preferred it.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't notice Loki's presence until he had walked around the cough to stand between her and the television. To her credit, she didn't jump or show her surprise. She didn't bother hiding her irritation, though.

"Is there any particular reason you're in my apartment after I specifically told you I wanted you out?" her voice was like ice and it cut through Loki.

"I've come to apologize."

"This should be good," she said, crossing her legs, "for what, exactly?"

Loki shifted, unhappy with how this was going, "For losing my temper and becoming violent."

"And?"

"And what? I have extended my apologies for having behaved in a manner unbecoming for a prince. Apart from that, I have no other crimes on my conscience that pertain to you."

"How about being a dick?"

Loki almost laughed at how crude Natasha was when upset.

"I am jealous by nature. Do not expect an apology for that. I am not overly fond of those who would stand between me and that which I desire," he paused, "but if I am required to beg your forgiveness for that, I have a grievance of my own."

"Oh?" she asked, eyeing him skeptically.

"Yes. You insinuated that I was weaker than Thor - "

"Have you _seen_ your brother?"

He shot her a dirty look, "Fine. I will accept that. But you also claimed to find him handsomer than I."

"No, I didn't," she said with a half smile. It was adorable how insecure he was with her. Almost enough to make her want to forgive him. Almost.

"Do not play with me - "

She cut him off again, "Loki, what were the exact words I said?"

"It's no competition who's handsomer," he said through gritted teeth.

"I was mad and I wanted to piss you off. Which I apparently did really well, judging by the bruises you left. But I never actually said that it was Thor who was the better looking one, did I?"

"You - " Loki searched for what to say, "you infuriating, impossible woman. How you toy with me. It is truly remarkable."

"I knew you'd catch me if I lied outright. So I just let you draw your own conclusions."

"My clever Natasha."

He crossed the distance between them until his arms were planted on the sofa back on either side of her shoulders. He levered himself down to kiss her.

She turned her head at the last second. His kiss fell on her hair instead of her lips.

"I'm not done being mad at you yet. Attempted murder aside, you still tried to dictate who I can and can't see. I'm not ok with that," she looked up at him, "Even if we were together, which you made very clear that we're not, that wouldn't make that acceptable. Clint's my friend."

"And your former lover," Loki scowled.

"Yes. He is. But again, you and I are - I have no idea what we are, but you have no say when it comes to my personal life. End of discussion."

Loki nodded, slowly starting to understand. Natasha was not to be tamed or caged or commanded. He should have realized that sooner, as her wildness was one of the things that drew him to her. He hated that this was what came of it, but he didn't see a way around it. For now.

"Now, if you don't mind, I have a disgusting amount of work to catch up on because someone," she gave him a pointed look, "thought that abducting me for the better part of a week was a great idea."

"Of course," he said as he moved off of the sofa to allow her up.

He walked towards the door.

"Oh, and Loki?"

He turned at the sound of her voice.

"I accept your apology."

If he didn't know better, he would have sworn he saw a soft smile on that face. He nodded, opened the door, and left her to her work.


	14. Chapter 14

This took as long as it did because I've done massive storyboarding and holy hell, am I excited for what's coming. Also, please note that I cherry-picked elements from the comic and then mangled them to suit my needs, so if there's something wonky, I claim artistic license.

* * *

Natasha leaned back in her chair to crack her back. Spending all night hunched over a laptop wreaked havoc on her body, but she had just finished up the last report. She looked out the window and groaned. She really had worked the whole night. The sky was just beginning to lighten. There was no way she'd get to sleep now.

Her running shoes sat on the closet floor, ignored for the last week with all of the chaos. Maybe a good, hard run was exactly what she needed to wake her up and to get the kinks out of her muscles. Then a scalding hot shower and a coffee in front of the tv.

"Sounds like a plan," she said to herself, closing the laptop and stepping away from the table.

* * *

This early, even diehard runners were few and far between, and Natasha had the park almost entirely to herself. That was how she preferred it. SHIELD had a track in their gym facility, but she hated being ogled by coworkers, and it was just so boring. In the park, there was always something new to look at.

As she passed by the Imagine mosaic, she smiled. Today, the peace sign was forget-me-nots and strawberries. Perfect.

Halfway back to her apartment, her phone buzzed against her thigh. She fished it out and rolled her eyes at the name on the caller id.

"Romanoff."

"Natasha, we need you."

"Sorry, Fury. I was under the impression I was still on leave pending a psychiatric assessment. Has that been changed?"

"No, which is why this job is technically not even happening. But an old friend of yours turned up in the North Caucasus and we need your skill set to take care of her." Fury's tone made it sound like he wasn't going to accept any excuses.

"Which old friend?" Natasha asked, unsure if she really wanted to know.

"Sofiya Novikov," he said, "but intel says she's now going by Sofiya Gagarin."

"Oh, good," she sighed.

She and Sofiya had been in the Red Room facility together. The two most promising girls to come out of it, actually. And Sofiya had always had always been a prodigy when it came to violence. She tended to gravitate towards sharp objects, and those objects usually ended up in someone's throat at one point or another. There really was no way to overstate just how much Natasha had never wanted to see her again.

"When do I leave?" she asked, trying to keep her displeasure out of her voice.

"Look to your left."

Sure enough, there was a car waiting. Black, nondescript, rather like the suit of the guy driving it. She hit the end button and pocketed her phone, sliding into the backseat.

"You mind dropping by my apartment so I can shower and change? I'd rather not spend seventeen hours on a plane feeling gross."

* * *

The second she stepped out of Stark's jet, a gust of wind smacked her full in the face. Mountains. She hated mountains. There was a reason Natasha had moved to New York. But this was the best place to land without attracting the wrong kind of attention. One hint that she was here and Sofiya would vanish with a trail of bodies behind her.

Another black, nondescript car pulled up. This time, when she slid into the backseat, there was a folder waiting for her.

"We have about two hours before we reach our destination, miss. Until then, Director Fury asked that you familiarize yourself with the contents of that folder."

Natasha flipped the folder open, thinking out loud, "Novikov, what have you gotten yourself into this time?"

The guy she'd taken up with, Gagarin, seemed like a real winner. Terrorist affiliations all over the world. Apparently there was a small offshoot of the IRA that he had been closely tied with about twelve years ago. And then he'd run off with the cell leader's daughter. They found the body a month later.

The more Natasha read, the more concerned she became. It seemed like girls had a tendency to end up dead after getting involved with this guy.

"Sonya, really?"

And then she got to the section on Sofiya. And she began to worry for Gagarin's safety. Of course, that was assuming he hasn't already joined her list of dead boyfriends. No one had heard from him in over a month. No one had found him poisoned and gutted either, though, and that was how all the other men had been found. Sofiya seemed to take the Black Widow imagery a little too literally.

Lately, Sofiya had been posing as a live-in housekeeper for a retired government official named - oh no. Oh, shit, Natasha thought.

Ivan Petrovitch.

The man responsible for making her what she had become. The man responsible for making a lot of little girls into whatever they were now. There was no chance this was a coincidence, and it wasn't Sofiya revisiting an old friend.

This was Sofiya out for blood.

* * *

When the car finally reached the old, brick townhouse where Petrovitch lived, she was about ready to jump out of her skin. According to their intelligence, Ivan would be out right now for his daily walk. Sofiya would be alone in the house for just shy of an hour. Natasha wouldn't have very long to do this.

She saw that the kitchen window was cracked and smiled to herself. It was too easy. After a quick check with the heat-scanner she had swiped from Tony ages ago, she wiggled the window higher and slipped in.

The scanner indicated only one warm body in the house. She was upstairs, sitting down, presumably watching tv. Good. The noise would help cover any creaks from the old wood floors.

She was three steps from the top when she heard the sound of a gun being cocked.

"Come on, 'talia, love. I expected so much more from you," Sofiya crooned from the landing. Her eyes were wild and feverish, "After all these years?"

"It's 'Natasha' now."

"Natasha, Natalia, Natalie. Frankly, my dear, I don't give a fuck."

"You've been watching Ivan's old movies?"

"Well, it's not like I'm doing any actual housekeeping here. I've got to kill time somehow before I get to the actual killing, haven't I?"

Natasha moved to go up another step and a bullet flew by her ear, catching a strand of hair and sending it drifting to the floor.

"I hate guns so much, Natalia. I don't understand why you favor them," she waved it around as she spoke, "but you do, so I thought I would use one to kill you. Wasn't that thoughtful of me? I have been called so many things over the years, but never inconsiderate."

"Sonya, what did they do to you?" Natasha took another step, and another bullet took off another strand of hair.

"The same thing they did to you! Only I didn't turn out quite like they wanted. They wanted a good girl, a girl who would do what they said when they said it. I was so good at doing what they said! But not doing it when they said. I was better at doing it when I wanted. And to who I wanted," she was ranting now, her cheeks flushed.

"And I knew you would come for me," she laughed, "I knew if I put Ivan in danger, you would come to stop me. He always favored you, you know. Practically raised you. He never cared about me. _You_ never cared about me!"

"Soph, I did care about you. All of those times - "

"You left us!" she shrieked.

Suddenly, there was a knife in her other hand and she lashed out at Natasha, who couldn't manage to get out of the way quite fast enough. She let out a gasp of pain as the edge caught her shoulder blade. She turned to dodge further from Sofiya's reach when -

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Loki, get out of here!"

* * *

Ehehe, LOKI'D!


	15. Chapter 15

To the anon who commented "No you can't Loki us! This is untoward. This is NOT TOWARD," I am dyyyying. Too funny. So this update is a little bit early just for you for making me laugh.

Seriously, guest reviewers! Let me love youuu!

Also, quick warning for the more squeamish readers: There's some murdering going on in this chapter. And some slightly gruesome things. If that really bothers you, you can scroll past the first division line and read from there, and I'll give a very brief note at the end on what you missed.

* * *

Sofiya whirled around and put a bullet squarely between Loki's eyes. He crumpled to the floor. Before she had the chance to turn back around, Natasha had her pinned on the ground with her own knife at her throat.

Sofiya looked up and smiled.

"Did you love him?"

"My orders were to bring you in. I hadn't planned on killing you," Natasha's voice was flat, her face expressionless. She pressed the knife down harder, a bead of blood welling up, "But I guess plans can change."

"I hope if you're going to kill her, it's not purely for my sake," she heard his voice drawl from behind her.

Her heart jumped to her throat and for one crucial second, she broke her concentration. Sofiya only needed one second. She let out a snarl and had Natasha flipped underneath her. She snatched the knife back and before either of the other two could react, she had slashed the Black Widow hourglass into Natasha's back.

Her triumphant squeal was cut short when Loki teleported across the room and was suddenly gripping her by the throat, her feet dangling in midair.

The room grew cold and ice crystals began growing along the edges of the windowpanes. Natasha looked up to see Loki's smooth, creamy skin turn blue and cover with strange markings. His green eyes darkened, shifted, until they were as red as the small trickle of blood dripping from Sofiya's neck.

For the first time, Sofiya looked afraid.

"What are you?" she managed to choke out.

"I am the monster you thought you were too grown-up to fear," he tightened his grip, "and you threatened something of mine."

The woman let out a weak gurgle, clearly fading. Natasha felt something inside her twist. She couldn't let her die. Not like that.

"Loki," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "please."

His eyes, still so startling, met hers. They narrowed as he searched her face. Finally, he nodded and dropped her to the ground where she lay, still and silent.

"We should just go," she reached to take his hand to lead him out.

When they reached the landing, Natasha heard the shriek, "I did it for you, 'talia!"

She spun to see the girl leap at Loki, her knife clutched in her hand. Before she could process what happened, she put two bullets through Sofiya's throat. The girl was dead before she hit the rug.

"I'm sorry, Sonya. I truly am."

* * *

Natasha winced, even the gentle, exploratory touch of her fingertips sending jolts of searing pain through her back and along her shoulders. She turned to look at Loki, still blue and so out of place in the backseat of the car.

"Can you heal it? Magically?"

He shook his head. "Using magic to treat wounds was never something I was called upon to do. My talents lie elsewhere."

"Then I hope you have a steady hand," she said, digging in her knapsack.

Loki looked confused until he saw her pull out what looked like a tiny sewing kit. She removed the needle and thread and a small tube of what he assumed cleaned wounds.

"What makes you trust that I am capable of this?"

"Because I can't reach my own back, and because I don't think our driver is going to be much help. Do you see anyone else around?" she held out her hand, gesturing for him to take the items, "Come on, you can do this."

He accepted the needle, thread, and tube from her, trying to hide his hesitancy.

"I'll walk you through it, ok?" she said, and he nodded, his jaw set.

"First, you need to clean the cut. That's what the tube is for. It's straight ethanol. Pour some over the cut and ignore whatever noise I make in the next few seconds."

"Why?" he said as he trickled a small stream of the ethanol over her wound.

The stifled shriek that followed answered his question. She breathed deeply for a moment, trying to regain her composure.

"Now, you have some left, right?"

He did.

"Dip the needle in it and then run the needle through a flame."

"You've given me nothing to produce a flame."

She turned to give him an incredulous look, "Are you a god or aren't you?"

"Right," he gave a sheepish smile as he conjured a small flame to sterilize the needle.

"Try to stay near the surface with the thread, ok? I'd rather not go septic and have to go to the hospital," she said.

He tried to be as gentle as he could, but he saw her hands fisted tightly in her lap, her knuckles gone white. The driver looked back in the rearview mirror, but he didn't seem at all put off by the small scale surgery going on in the car. Loki wondered how often this sort of thing happened.

"You will most likely have a scar," he said, hoping conversation would distract her from the pain.

"Another one? Fantastic," she tried to keep her tone light, "Now I really will be a black widow."

"I'd prefer that you not try to murder me after sex tonight."

She did laugh at that, "You're confident. What makes you think you're getting any?"

He paused in his work to brush his lips against the back of her neck. He pressed a few soft kisses behind her ears and said, "What makes you think I won't?"

"Cocky bastard," she grinned as she turned her head to kiss him, "You're probably right."

The driver continued to show zero interest in what they were doing.

"So are you going to tell me why you're blue?"

* * *

"So how was the reunion?" the director's voice rumbled through the phone.

"Fine. More or less what I expected. I won't be bringing you back your souvenir, though," Natasha said.

"Which loosely translates to it being a complete shit-show?"

"A little," she had a sad smile, "Did you know it was a ploy to get me there? She knew I would come if she threatened Petrovitch."

There was a moment of silence over the phone. She wondered if Fury was taking her question as an accusation. She wondered if she meant it as one.

"You know I don't keep secrets from you."

"Yeah, I know," she lied. She used to believe it wholeheartedly. Now, she wasn't sure.

* * *

What you missed: Sofiya shot Loki, Natasha attacked Sofiya. Turns out Loki wasn't dead, Natasha got distracted, Sofiya sliced up Natasha's back. Loki tried to kill Sofiya, Natasha stopped him. As they were leaving, Sofiya lunges at Loki and Natasha kills her.


	16. Chapter 16

Two things. Thing one, one of my friends asked if Sofiya was supposed to look like Bellatrix Lestrange, because that's how she pictured her. Personally, I imagined her pale and malnourished with limp, pale hair, but whatever you guys see her as is fine by me.

Thing two, I got a PM asking if I would like fanart for this. AVIOQWENVCVREQYES. YESPLZ. If you are inspired, please go for it! Stick figures, gingerbread man reenactments, whatever! And then send me a link? Hit me up on Tumblr or something. I'm Kateavalanche on there as well.

* * *

Natasha had said her goodbyes to Loki back at the airstrip, promising to see him back in New York. He had offered to simply teleport her there, but she declined. The flight would give her a chance to process what had happened in the last few hours, what she had done. And - she wouldn't tell him this - she wasn't happy with herself for being distracted by him during a mission. This was her job, and she had failed because she had been too concerned with Loki. She wanted a few hours to herself to sort out how to deal with that.

But despite the seventeen hour flight, she still hadn't made up her mind on what to do. She needed to put that aside for now and focus on giving Fury a debriefing that didn't make her sound incompetent.

Her heels clicked against the smooth black floors of SHIELD headquarters. The elevator doors dinged open just as she reached them, and the two agents who had been waiting stepped back, allowing her to have it to herself. Good, she thought to herself. She didn't know if she could have handled the polite small-talk.

A short elevator ride and a walk down the corridor later, she came to a stop at the door to the director's personal office. She started punching in her access code when the door whooshed open of its own accord.

"Good, it's you. Come on in, we need to talk."

For once, she couldn't quite decipher what was going on in his head just from his voice. Natasha wondered if he didn't know what happened at Petrovitch's home. No, that was impossible. There was almost nothing that went on that he didn't know about. He must have been reserving judgment until he'd heard her side.

"First off, Director, I know I botched the mission. I was told to bring Novikov in and instead, I left a body to be dealt with. It was unacceptable and it won't - "

"You know that's not what I want to talk about," his voice was soft but it filled the room, "I want to know how you intend to take care of the other situation."

"Loki, sir?"

"Exactly. Because if you don't do something, I will have to step in."

Natasha nodded, saying, "I've already spoken with him on how it's inappropriate of him to interrupt my work, and how it will damage me professionally. He seemed to understand and - "

"Natasha," his one eye was fixed on her, his brows drawn down with disbelief.

Damn. She should have known better than to try to lie to Fury. He had been around spies long enough to see through bullshit.

"I haven't brought it up with him yet."

"You may not need to," Fury turned and brought up a file on the display, "Agent Barton has volunteered to be your protection detail for now, until we find someone better suited to the task."

"You think I need a babysitter?" Natasha fought to keep her tone level. Blowing up wouldn't help her any.

"I think you need reminding of exactly who you are and what you need to do! You're my best agent, Romanoff. But when you slip up like this on a mission just because your pet demigod shows up, I can't sit by and do nothing."

"She was going to kill him!"

"From what I hear, he was going to kill her first," he continued, "so until this all blows over, you will be spending a lot more time with Barton. I don't care if this ruins your date night plans, because right now, I am having a hard time trusting you!"

And there it was. The real issue. Fury was afraid that the time Natasha was spending with Loki would compromise her, ruin her for SHIELD work. The worst part was that she wasn't convinced he was wrong.

"Understood," she said, "Was there anything else?"

He let out an exhausted sigh and shook his head, "No, that was it. You're free to go."

The door slid open to let her out. She hadn't made it three steps past Fury's office when she heard someone behind her.

"Not in the mood, Clint."

"D'he tell you? About - "

"Yes, he did," she kept walking, not bothering to stop and face him, "You're loving this, aren't you?"

"Well, I'm not really enjoying it a whole lot right now."

They were nearly to the elevator before he cut in front of her, forcing her to look at him. His asked in a low voice, "What the hell happened to us, Nat? We used to be best friends."

"I don't know, Clint. Maybe you let your hatred of Loki blind you to the possibility that he's not evil incarnate."

"This isn't just about that! You've been keeping things from me, and you never used to do that. You remember that night at Tony's? You told me that there was something going on with you, and you promised you'd tell me when you were ready. Are you ever planning on being ready?"

"I don't feel like talking about it now, if that's what you're asking," she said, hitting the down arrow with a little more force than was necessary.

He followed her into the elevator. The few seconds it took to get to the ground level were pointedly silent and tense. Even the sound of her shoes on the floor sounded irritated, if that was possible.

The cab ride back to her apartment was worse. She didn't make a single sound after giving the cabbie her address. The next time either of them said anything was when she paid the driver, thanking him.

* * *

Eleven flights of their footsteps echoing through the silent stairwell was painfully awkward, but the cherry on Clint's shit sundae came when they stepped out onto the hallway.

Loki was there, leaning against the door with a lazy smirk that pissed Clint off to no end. He smiled at first, only noticing Natasha. Then the smile dropped and his eyes narrowed when he saw Clint standing behind her.

"What business does he have here?" he hissed to Natasha, keeping his voice low.

"I'm sorry; it looks like we're going to have company," she turned to Clint, "you go in. I'll be there in a minute."

"You sure? Fury said - "

"Clint, I'm a grown woman. I'll be in in just a minute."

She waited until she heard his footsteps carry away from the closed door, not wanting him to listen in.

"Loki, I think tonight's off. I've got a watchdog now," she said, "Fury's orders."

He said nothing, only stepped forward to close the distance between them. Natasha felt tendrils of heat curling in her belly as he crushed them together, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. He held her there a moment to eradicate any doubt that, no matter what Fury might throw at them, she was his. Loki felt her lips turn up in a smile and drop a kiss against his collarbone. Moving his hands from her waist to her shoulders, he gently moved back a step.

"It is no matter. If you wish, I can wait."

He seemed like he was trying to stare through Natasha's eyes and into her soul. She would have laughed if he hadn't tightened his grip on her shoulders, pulling her into a kiss that burned all thought from her mind. It wasn't wild and savage, but it wasn't tender and sweet. It scorched, turning her blood to electricity sparking through her veins. It spoke of his conflicting desires to possess her and to submit to her utterly. She could feel him grow hard against her before he tore himself away, the both of them dizzy and oxygen starved and so desperately unhappy about the man currently sitting on Natasha's sofa.

"We have all the time in the world," he whispered, placing one soft kiss against her temple before vanishing.

After she was sure the flush had gone from her cheeks, she turned the doorknob and stepped inside. Sure enough, there was Clint, wrapped up in some History Channel special about weapons. Some things would never change.

"Is he gone?"

"Yes, Clint. He's gone," she plunked down on the couch next to him. A small rumble reminded her that she hadn't eaten in ages, "You hungry?"

Clint turned away from the tv, "Nat, I'm always hungry."

She grabbed the phone from the side table, "Can you take a look at the delivery menus? Find something that looks good. I don't feel like making anything tonight."

"I can make something," he stood up and gave a hopeful smile, "I still remember my way around your kitchen."

He half expected her to shoot him down, but instead she shrugged, "Sure," and then "Wait, nothing with onions!"

"If you don't like onions, why do you keep buying them, 'tasha?"

"Shut up and cook me something!"

He laughed. Maybe the ice queen was thawing just a little. Maybe this wouldn't suck.

* * *

I'm trying SO HARD to not make Clint a douchebag. Am I succeeding at all?


	17. Chapter 17

Am I supposed to be doing warnings for each chapter? Because there's sex in here. Like...loads of it. CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED. (The phrase "gird your loins!" also comes to mind, but mainly because I find the word "loins" hilarious.)

* * *

After dinner - just a quick stir-fry. Clint was many things, but he was not a master chef - had been made and finished, Natasha volunteered to take care of the dishes. There hadn't been much conversation, but when they did talk, it had a strangeness to it. It felt like they were having to relearn their dynamic and neither one was really sure how to approach it. The historical weapons show still playing on the TV was what provided most of their topics throughout the evening.

"Well, I'm all done with these. Were you thinking of heading home or does Fury want you staying the night?" Natasha asked as she put the last plate back on its shelf.

"You know the director. Never wants anything done half-assed," Clint said with a wry laugh, "Is the guestroom made up?"

She bit back a disappointed sigh, "No, but the sheets and everything are all in the blanket chest in there. I can make it up in a - "

"Don't worry; I've got it," he was already headed towards the small bedroom, "I'll see you in the morning, Nat."

"See you in the morning."

Clint gave a brief wave as he turned down the hall and went into the guestroom. Natasha followed and opened the door to her own room. It felt wonderful to finally be back in her own space and to have a moment of solitude. Even before things had become strained with Clint, she had still needed personal time, and there had been very little of that in the last few days. She let out a deep breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and felt every muscle in her body unclench a little.

She started the shower, turning the water as hot as it would go. While that was warming up, she cleaned and put away her gun and undressed.

Steam was pouring out over the shower door by then, so she twisted her hair up into a knot and stepped under the scalding spray, practically moaning with pleasure.

This was exactly what she had needed. The water beat down against her skin, slowly uncoiling every kink in her back and washing away everything that had happened in the past few days.

When she couldn't justify spending any longer in the shower, she turned off the water and wrapped herself in a plush towel, infinitely nicer than the ones Tony had in the bathrooms on his planes. It was definitely good to be home.

Back in her room, she opened her dresser to pick out some night-clothes, paused, and slid the drawer shut. Putting clothes on suddenly felt like way too much effort, and her bed was crying out to her. The towel fell from her into a careless heap on the floor and she slid into bed, asleep before her head hit the pillow.

* * *

"I said I could wait, but I think I've waited enough, don't you? And look, you've already bared yourself for me."

Her eyes shot open as another body slipped beneath the covers. It took her a second to recognize the voice, but when she did her face broke into a wide smile.

"Loki!" she turned over and threw her arms around him, dragging him into a kiss, "You sure you should be here? If Clint comes in - "

"He won't."

"And you know this how?"

"Because I am not actually here," his smile was devious, "because you, my dearest, are still sound asleep."

"Tricky," she said with an appreciative smile.

"I am the Trickster," he said, "though tonight, I wish to be something else."

"What's that?"

"Your lover, if you'll permit me," he said and, with a playful growl he swooped down to claim her lips.

This may all have been a dream, but Loki's weight pressing her down into her mattress felt very real. The slight warmth from his body radiated through her, and every caress of his tongue against hers sent shivers that felt genuine running along her spine.

Tonight they were going slow, content to kiss and to explore each other through their fingertips. Every so often, Natasha would pull back minutely to catch her breath and each time she did, Loki would look at her as though he were waking from a dream of his own. There was a reverence in his face that set off schoolgirl flutters in her stomach.

Slowly, fingers became more and more bold. They were eventually replaced with mouths, and just when Loki was poised to thrust deep into Natasha, he locked eyes with her, his mouth half open with a surprised grin.

"I've had an idea."

"What, now?"

"You'll like this idea," and before she could say anything, her bedroom had vanished and they were standing in her kitchen.

Well, Loki was standing. Her bare ass was on the counter. She shivered from the sudden cold. He allowed her no time to protest before letting out a breathless laugh and burying himself within her. Instantly, she wrapped her legs around his waist for leverage, but also to force him deeper. Her arms twined around his shoulders and she rested her cheek against his chest. As he thrust in and out, he found he had to reach out one hand to splay against the cabinet for balance. With the other, he traced nonsensical designs along her back.

At this angle, Loki was actually supporting part of Natasha's weight, allowing him to hit entirely new places inside her, sending starbursts of light to explode across her vision. She was so glad this was a dream. Had it been real, her throat would have been raw the next morning from the sounds pouring out of her.

With every long, smooth stroke she clenched around him, tearing guttural moans from his lips, and her name like a mantra, over and over until the word had lost all meaning.

"Loki!"

All pretense of rhythm was abandoned and he slammed into her, rattling the dishes in the cabinets and panting. Both of them were shaking, clinging to each other for dear life, senseless to everything but each other, feeling the inevitable climb towards the peak come right to the brink. With one last thrust, Loki snapped, tumbling over that peak and pulling Natasha along with him.

When the haze had cleared, Natasha had slid so she was sprawled on the countertop with Loki's torso draped across her. Every breath he drew shifted him slightly within her, sending aftershocks jangling through her still hypersensitive flesh.

"I did like that idea. That was phenomenal," she breathed, not even sure she was loud enough for him to hear.

"Shall we try it again sometime when you are awake?"

"Fuck, yes."

"But this counter is exceedingly uncomfortable," he frowned, and they were back in her bed, still stark naked but completely clean.

"Mmm," Natasha curled up against him, tangling their legs, "So, what else can you do, God of Mischief?"

"Hmm, I can shape-shift," he mused, playing idly with a lock of her hair.

"What, really? Show me."

He sat up and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he shrunk, black hair became red curls, and suddenly she was looking at herself

"And just when I thought you couldn't get more stunning," she snickered. Then, a thought occurred to her, "Can you stay you but alter certain...parts?"

"Must that be the first place your mind goes?"

"Oh! And does that mean that you - are you all you down there?"

"If you're asking if I use my power to _stuff_, then no. And in any event, I have no need to. I am already satisfied with my proportions."

Natasha broke out laughing, "You cocky little shit!"

Loki merely grinned and shifted back to his regular state, "I have been planning how we might work around your director's new complication. I think my shape-shifting might prove useful, don't you?"

Ideas began swirling through Natasha's mind, plans evolving. She looked up to see Loki glance at her clock and to see his face fall.

"I cannot risk staying any longer. But before I go," he placed a hand over her heart and closed his eyes. After a moment, he opened them and removed his hand.

There, just above her left breast, was what looked like a downward slanted F.

"It is called ansuz. It is my rune, and you can use it to contact me if you are ever in danger. Wherever I am, I will come when you call."

And with that, he vanished.

* * *

Natasha opened her eyes, awake. The sky was still black; her clock read 3:17. She blinked slowly, trying to recall the details of the dream she had just had. Then she looked down.

The F. Or...what was it? Ansuz?

Everything came back in a flood. And she lay there, horribly aware of how massive and empty her bed felt now.

* * *

I actually want that rune tattooed on me somewhere. Not that I'm obsessed or anything. Nooooo.


	18. Chapter 18

No warnings except swearing. Because...again, Clint is a mouthy little fuck. But we love him.

Oh, and also flagrant abuse of comic, movie, and mythology details all being smooshed together for my own twisted purpose. That goes for every chapter from here on out as well. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

* * *

The next morning, the bed felt as empty as ever. That, combined with the knowledge that Clint was an early riser, was enough to drag Natasha from sleep and into the kitchen to fix something for breakfast.

Peppers, cheddar-jack cheese, and eggs - looked like she was making omelets. Before closing the fridge, she pulled out a package of bacon for Clint's.

As she chopped peppers, he poked his head out of the guestroom.

"Hey, Nat, you mind if I hijack your bathroom for a minute? I need a shower."

"Yeah, sure. Towels are in the - "

"Linen closet, third shelf. I remember."

The door swung open and he walked out in just an undershirt and boxers, closing her bedroom door behind him with a click. She heard the water kick on and went back to making breakfast.

The eggs sizzled in the pan and in went the filling. The coffeepot was full by then, so Natasha poured herself a cup. No cream, plenty of sugar. Perfect. As she drank, her eyes drifted to the corner of the kitchen where she had - well. Probably shouldn't be thinking about that right now, she told herself. Not with Clint in the apartment. All the same, she knew the heat spiking along her limbs wasn't just from the coffee.

She went to flip the omelet when it spat a drop of boiling oil at her bare arm. She jumped back in pain and surprise, bumping her back against a cabinet door she had forgotten to close.

She cried out, expecting the sudden, bright pain from smacking her stitches. But that pain never came. Her hand flew to her back, where the stitches were, but her fingertips felt nothing but smooth skin.

"How the..." she needed to see exactly what was going on. She pulled the pan off of the hot burner and ran to her bedroom, pounding on the bathroom door, "Clint, I need to get in there!"

"You're not taking a shit while I'm in the shower!" his voice rang out over the sound of water.

"Wasn't planning on it, you child!"

She heard him chuckling as she opened the door to look at herself in the mirror. The glass was all fogged up from the steam, but there was a note written in the condensation.

"I've learned a few new tricks."

Loki. Natasha smiled and wiped it away to see clearly in the glass. Sure enough, when she hiked up her shirt, there was no sign of injury. No cut, no stitches, no scar. She ran her fingers over the area where they should have been, marveling at how good a job he had done.

"Are you planning on sticking around for a show or something?" Clint asked.

"Hardly. I'm done here," she said, flushing the toilet before she left just to mess with him.

"Aagh! Sonnuvabitch, too hot! You - Nat, you fucking - ! Really?"

She laughed to herself and called back to him, "Breakfast is ready!"

She slid their breakfasts onto plates and set out a mug for Clint. He came out of the bathroom as she put the plates on the table.

"Not cute, 'tasha. Not cute," he grumbled as he poured coffee into his mug.

His fingers curled around the warm ceramic and he pulled out a chair, sitting at the table across from her. He gave her a long look.

"You've got that face."

Natasha blinked and looked up at him, "I've what?"

"That face. You always make that face when you've got something you want to tell me but you don't know if you should," his voice softened, "What is it?"

"I think I'm ready to talk to you about it. But I need you to promise you're ready to listen."

"You know me, Nat. I'm here whenever you need me."

Natasha took a deep breath and started from the beginning, the dreams, the little details, everything. Then the visits, the time in Asgard, the things she had left out of her debriefing with Fury. By the time she had finished, their coffee had gone cold, their breakfasts forgotten.

"Clint, please say something."

"I'm not sure what _to_ say," he said, leaning forward in his chair, " I still don't like him, but if he's as attached to you as it sounds, he's not going to hurt you. I guess I don't need to kill him just yet."

That was the closest to a blessing she could ask for from her friend.

"Thank you," she said, and for the first time in weeks, she felt like everything was alright between them.

"I still want you to be happy, you know. Just...I hate that it's with him. And I don't trust him at all. But until he gives me a reason to put an arrow through his eye, I'll stand down."

"I can accept that," she lifted her mug to her lips to take a sip and spluttered, "Augh, this is awful! Here, give me your mug, I'll reheat them."

She leaned against the counter to wait for the microwave to beep. They were nearly done when Clint's phone went off.

"Director? Yeah, I can - sure thing. Be there in twenty," he pocketed his phone and picked his jacket up from the back of the sofa where he had dropped it last night, "Duty calls. I'll see you later, Nat. Until then, I'm going to leave you with Fallon and Carter."

He swung open the door to reveal two agents standing in the hall.

"You had two people posted in the hall all night? Seriously, Clint? It's not like I was going to run away or anyth- Sharon!" she waved the agents in.

Clint took the opportunity to slip out before Natasha started in on him. Agent Carter glanced back at him and he mouthed a quick 'thank you' to her before closing the door behind him.

"So. Were you two stuck out in the hall all night?"

"Pretty much, yeah," he said.

"Fallon, right? Sorry, I don't know you as well," Natasha paused, "Wait. You aren't the agent Stark caught playing Galaga, are you?"

Agent Fallon scowled and Natasha laughed, "You are! Sorry about Tony; he's...he's Tony."

"Agent Carter, I'm going to go back into the hall," he turned and walked back out.

Once the door had clicked shut, Sharon rolled her eyes, "He's touchy about that. The boys still rag on him sometimes."

"I bet," Natasha said before picking up her freshly reheated coffee and sitting on the sofa, "Do you want me to fix you anything?"

"No, Rigby and I had coffee earlier," Sharon sat down at the other end of the sofa, tucking her feet up under her, "So. I heard Steve dragged you out of the house to give you some big-brotherly advice the other night?"

"Did he tell you what about?"

Sharon shrugged, "Guy issues. He seemed kind of tight-lipped about it so I didn't push. But is the guy Clint?"

Natasha shifted her weight. She and Sharon were friends, or as close to friends as Natasha had beyond Clint, but it still felt strange to be discussing her problems with her. She shook her head, "No, not Clint. He and I are - we haven't been together for a while."

"Then I suppose it's Loki."

It was only Natasha's considerable self-control that kept her from doing a spit-take with her hot coffee, "What makes you say that?"

"Oh, come on. After that scene you two had on the helicarrier? That alone fed the SHIELD rumor mill for a couple weeks. And then him kidnapping you? Which most of SHIELD doesn't know about, but I got that out of Steve."

"And this is relationship foundation material how?"

"Because you still haven't told me that I'm wrong," Sharon sat back, a knowing smile on her lips.

One look at Sharon told Natasha that she wasn't getting out of this one.

"It's like high school never ends," she said.

"What is it like, being with a god? I bet - "

"I would speak with Natasha! Who are you to turn me away?" a voice boomed out in the hallway.

Saved by Thor. Thank god, Natasha thought.

"Does my apartment have some kind of sign begging everyone I work with to show up?" she asked out loud. Then, she called, "It's ok, Fallon! Let him in!"

As soon as the words left her mouth, the door burst open to reveal Thor in his version of Earth clothes - jeans and a flannel shirt. Their fashion senses alone would have been enough for her to guess that the brothers weren't related.

He looked about to launch into a speech when he noticed Sharon.

" I mean you no disrespect, Lady Sharon, but I would speak to Natasha in private," he said with an apologetic smile.

"Of course," she said, standing up, "and Natasha, we'll finish this conversation later?"

"Sure," she said as the agent left the room, then turned to Thor, "You have no idea how glad I am that you interrupted that."

"Natasha, this is a matter of the utmost importance. My father has received a prophecy that Loki's life is in peril."

"What?"

"And that you must be the one to come to his aid."

"Wait, slow down. Peril from who? And why me? Why not someone from Asgard? Or Jotunheim? Why not you?"

"This, I do not know. But I must caution you against telling Loki any of this," Thor's expression became deadly serious, "If he learns anything of this, the prophecy has made it clear that his fate will be sealed."

Natasha searched his face, uncertain how to respond. She let out a whoosh of air she had been holding in.

"Alright. What do I do?"


	19. Chapter 19

This took so long to get out and it's not even like I have a good excuse like the plague or something. No, I blame Netflix and Andrew Lee Potts. Seriously. If you can, watch the SyFy miniseries _Alice_. Best Hatter I have ever seen.

Also, more appropriating of mythology. I went all out with this chapter, breaking out wiki, a textbook, and my rune stones. Yup, I'm a massive nerd.

* * *

"Thor, Loki has magic, and he's smart. What is it that this prophecy of yours says is going to be coming after him that's got you so spooked?"

Thor shook his head, "Mimir's prophecies are rarely precise in detail. Father is certain it is Loki to whom the prophecy refers, and it said that she who must come to his aid is born of silk and of steel."

"And Mimir is?"

"Ah!" he brightened, pleased to be asked a question he knew the answer to, "Mimir was my father's uncle, brother to his mother, Bestla, but he was struck down, his head sliced cleanly from his body. His head now rests in my father's possession, whispering to him secrets of other worlds and times."

"Right," she said, wondering why she had ever asked, "but silk and steel? And you got me from that?"

"Well, from your title and your weapons."

Natasha sighed, "That could be any one of a dozen girls around the world. There were so many of us in Red Room. There's got to be more that's making you think it's me, isn't there?"

"There was one other detail, that 'she bears his mark,' but that, we have taken to be symbolic of my brother singling you out to be his lover," he said. He saw her reaction to his words and frowned, "Does this trouble you?"

"It's - it's not just symbolic," Natasha said, her fingers reaching for the neckline of her shirt. As she pulled it down to show him the rune on her skin, his frown deepened.

"For what possible reason - ? Brother, you are the same as you ever were, never once thinking of the long-term or of the true consequences of your actions!" Thor was nearly shouting then, his face dark with worry.

"He said he did it so I could use it to call him when I was in danger. What's the harm in that?"

"The harm?" he fumed, "The harm is that it does indeed allow you to summon him to your side, but I see he has failed to explain how! It does so by entwining the vines of your life force and his. The joys one feels are felt by both, but so it is with the pain, the damage done to one, both feel as well. It is old magic and its repercussions are not fully known! It is one thing to bind two immortals, undying and ever strong. But for Loki to bind himself to you, it is needlessly dangerous."

Natasha waited as Thor paced up and down the length of the living room, obviously trying to puzzle out the reasoning behind Loki's actions. In spite of everything Loki had done, or perhaps because of it, Thor was loathe to believe that his brother would endanger her without a good reason.

"Thor, sit. You're making me seasick," she said finally, waving him over to the sofa.

The way he sat, the angle at which he held himself, reminded her so powerfully of Loki. She wondered if the brothers might be more alike than they were different, and if Loki knew just how much Thor cared for him.

"One moment," he said suddenly, pulling her from her thoughts, "No, this may yet work in our favor."

He turned to her with a broad smile, "Mimir spoke of Yngvi, but not of how he was connected with the prophecy. Yngvi was a hero of legend, a man who had earned his place in the halls of Valhalla. He became a god. You must do the same."

"Oh, good. I thought this was going to be hard."

"Then you know of a way to achieve this?" Thor looked surprised.

"I - no. Sarcasm," she shook her head, "It's great that a disembodied head has decided that I need to become a god, but did he happen to give you any hints on how I might do that? Or know anyone who can help me do it?"

"I would caution against going to your scientists and mentors at SHIELD. They would wish to know your motives and for them, the memory of the destruction my brother wrought is too fresh, too near. They would be ill disposed to provide you with assistance."

"That exact same logic rules out pretty much everyone in New York, Thor. So who _can_ I go to?"

This was beginning to feel like some crazy quest in one of those ridiculous games Clint used to play. Roll the dice, get the magic ring, fulfill the prophecy. She and Thor sat in silence a moment as he thought about an answer to her question.

"Erik Selvig," he said at last, "He may know."

"Dr. Selvig is one of the people that Loki brainwashed! There isn't a chance in Hell he would agree to help me with this."

"He may yet surprise you. You cannot hope to know if you do not ask."

Natasha gave him a long look, then threw up her hands and stood, "You're insane, but ok."

"You are not the first to say this of me."

He followed her over to her desk where her laptop sat, ready and waiting. He was still unused to the prevalence of technology in this new world. Her fingers flew across keys, bringing up a box with a list of names in it. From those names, she selected Selvig's, opening a new and larger box.

"Agent Romanoff, good evening! And Thor! To what do I owe the pleasure?" the man's voice rang out from the speakers, his face now filling the screen.

"Dr. Selvig, sorry to bother you - "

"It's no trouble at all, I was keying in some data, but that can wait a moment."

" -but we have sort of a strange situation here, and you seemed the man to come to."

"Concerning astrophysics? Thor, I'm surprised you didn't go to Jane," he grinned.

Thor beamed back and cut in, "No, Erik, our question is of a different nature. We wished to know if you could tell us how one might become a god."

The doctor had been taking a drink from a mug at the moment Thor asked that, and he nearly spat it everywhere in surprise, "What are you two up to that you need to know that?"

"I'm really not sure we can tell you that, doctor. I'm sorry. But does anything come to mind? Anything at all?" Natasha said, hoping he would accept it.

His brows drew together, either in thought or doubt, she couldn't tell. He turned away from the camera and towards his computer, typing something. His eyes scanned the screen rapidly and she could hear the click wheel of the mouse flying down the page.

"Iduna," he said, turning back to the camera, "She would be your best bet."

Natasha was confused but she saw Thor light up with comprehension, "Of course! My thanks, old friend."

Erik must have seen her face, because he went on, "Iduna cared for the magic apples that were the source of youth and strength for the gods. It is not a guarantee, but the apples may have some of the same effect on you, Natasha."

"Who ever said anything about it being me?"

"Please believe it isn't arrogance when I say that I am a genius, Agent Romanoff. It was not difficult for me to guess," he smiled, "Was there more you needed?"

"No, you have been most helpful," Thor thanked him again.

"Then I should probably get back to my work before I lose my place. Thor, say hello to Jane when you see her again?"

"I will, Erik."

"Thank you for your help, Dr. Selvig," Natasha closed out the video chat window and shut down her laptop.

She looked up at Thor, "Do you think this Iduna will be willing to help us?"

"It is difficult for me to say for certain. I would need to speak with her before I could promise her support, but she is kind and gentle. I believe she could be persuaded," he started towards the door with long strides, "I will go to her now."

Before Natasha could get a word out, the door had closed behind him. She plunked back down on the sofa, struck by how quickly her life had turned into this - what word even described her life right then? A year ago, she had been just an assassin turned spy-slash-agent. After that, she was an agent plagued by a god. And then getting fucked by one. And now. Now, turning into one?

No, it didn't seem like there was a word to encompass all of that.


	20. Chapter 20

Uuuugh, this is so short. But I didn't want to break up what comes next, so whatever. Also, the rest of the A/N is at the end because it's a rant. Please read it.

* * *

Sharon had come back in, all smiles, fully prepared to pick up where they had left off and gossip some more. And then she saw Natasha on the couch, her eyes blank, fixated on some invisible focal point in the distance.

"I know that look," she said.

Natasha blinked. She hadn't even heard Carter come back in through the door, she had been so lost in thought over Thor's bombshell.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, sitting on the other end of the couch.

"Sorry, do you mind if I don't?"

"Not at all, I'm not going to push."

She nodded gratefully, then turned towards the table, where her cell phone had just started ringing.

The caller ID said it was Clint. She hit the talk button and answered, "Yeah?"

"You feel up for a little info-gathering trip?"

"Anywhere in particular?"

"Mediterranean."

"And our cover?"

"Honeymooners."

"So what's our last name this time?"

"Rushman's always worked well, don't you think?"

"I'll grab the overnight bag."

"Attagirl. The car'll be there in five. See you at the hangar in half an hour."

"See you then."

She clicked her phone off, shoving it deep in the pocket of her jeans, and looked over to Sharon, "Looks like you and Fallon have the next couple nights off. Barton and I have a job."

From her bedroom, she could hear Sharon out in the entryway talking to Rigby, "You hear that, Rigs? Romanoff's heading out so we've got time to ourselves. Don't get into too much trouble with the eggheads without me there to bail you out!"

She smiled and shook her head. From the pile of overnight bags in the back of her closet, she pulled out the warm weather one with clothes appropriate for the honeymoon cover. Mostly lightweight, breezy things with a negligee and an evening gown tucked in the bottom. People underestimated the undercover potential of lingerie. If your tits were spilling out of black lace, no one would remember anything about your face.

She stuffed the envelope with the Rushman passport and papers into the bag, waved goodbye to the two agents, and locked the door behind her.

* * *

"Ok, Clint, you were pretty sparing with the details over the phone. What are we gathering info on? And anyplace more specific than just 'Mediterranean'?" she asked as they belted themselves into the jet.

Clint grinned, "Not so much a what as a who. Arnaud DiDomenico. Old money family originally operating a vineyard near Tuscany, but Arnaud decided to branch out. Rising star in the arms world. He's not big time yet, but Fury has a feeling he will be. Especially since there's something hinky about what he uses to power his weapons. From the little information we've got so far, it looks awfully similar to what Hydra was developing."

"Think they got a hold of some old Hydra tech?"

"It's not impossible. Steve may have blown a lot of their bases to bits, but he's still just a man. Couldn't guarantee he got everything. So we're going to get a better look at DiDomenico and get a feel for who he likes, who he doesn't like. This is just part one of a two parter."

"And the second part?" Natasha asked, glancing through the folder Clint handed her as she pinned her hair flat against her head.

"Yacht party he's throwing in a couple weeks. Hill got her hands on a tip that he might be putting on a show there, so Fury decided it was best for us to get the lay of the land before jumping into that."

"Sounds like him."

"No one wants to be stuck on a yacht if things get nasty and our cover gets blown somehow. Better to go in with an idea of what we're getting into, don't you think?"

"What?" she looked up, "No, yeah, I agree. I was just remembering the last time we were on a yacht."

"Tripoli!" Clint frowned, "God, what a shit show that was. Yeah, I can see why Fury's so set on breaking this into two parts. Anyway, once you're done with the folder, try to catch a nap or something. We'll be landing in Naples pretty early in the morning, and you don't like tourists at the best of times."

"I really don't," she said flatly, adjusting her brunette wig of long, pin-straight locks.

* * *

" Benvenuti all'Aeroporto Capodichino, Mr. e Mrs. Rushman! E benvenuti in Italia!" the woman at the gate chirped.

"Honey, do you have the hotel reservations in your bag?" Natasha prompted Clint, eager to get the hell out of the crowd. This was exactly why she preferred tiny airports and abandoned hangars where she didn't have to deal with chirpy airline representatives.

"Hotel reservation receipt right here," he patted his bag and slung an arm across her shoulders, "Now let's find ourselves a cab."

* * *

Check-in at the hotel had been uneventful. The room was smallish - getting the honeymoon suite had been impossible on such short notice and SHIELD's budget wasn't overly concerned with quality of accommodations - but prettily furnished and it had a balcony with a stunning view of the skyline and the bay.

They had unpacked their bags and changed out of their travel clothes, which went a long way towards improving Natasha's mood. As soon as that was done, Clint's stomach, true to character, let out a long and insistent growl.

"I could go for some Italian," he grinned.

Natasha rolled her eyes, "Convenient, since we're in Italy. The folder mentioned a restaurant DiDomenico frequents that's about a block away. Come on, Mr. Rushman."

Arm in arm, they left the hotel and walked along the busy street looking for all the world like a happy tourist couple.

After taking an intentional wrong turn and asking a local for directions, they found the restaurant. Natasha had expected it to be a little more ritzy based on what they knew of Arnaud, but the inside was surprisingly homey. It was spacious but managed to keep the atmosphere of a close relative's home, and it was warm and inviting.

They were seated at a table with an excellent vantage point, and Clint was pleased that it was against a wall so no one could walk behind him unnoticed. The woman waiting on them was delighted when they greet and thank her in Italian, grinning broadly as she ran down the list of that day's seafood.

The antipasto had come and gone and no one even resembling the arms dealer had come in. They had ordered and received their food, finished it and half a bottle of wine, and still no sign of DiDomenico. They had dessert - espresso for Natasha, some outrageously chocolaty torte for Clint - and still nothing. Finally, when their stomachs could hold no more, they paid the check, left a generous tip for the woman, and walked back to the hotel.

As soon as they opened the door to their room, Natasha's face contorted in a massive yawn. She hadn't managed to get any sleep on the plane and her exhaustion was finally catching up with her.

She crossed the room to sit on the bed and turned to Clint, "Do you mind if I crash for a little while?"

"Go ahead. I'm going to knock out some work I've been putting off, so I can keep an eye out," he slip open the door to the balcony, "I'll be out here if you need anything."

"Thanks," she smiled sleepily, pulling back the covers and slipping into the bed.

* * *

A/N: You guys know I love feedback. I do a little excited wiggle dance for every single one, and I try to reply to the ones where I can think of something to say. But I have to ask you something. While I love hearing about how you can't wait for a new chapter, and I'm always happy to hear that you're enthusiastic about the story, please do not say things like "Get writing already".

I have a life. I write this because it brings me joy, and it would bring me joy whether I posted it on ffnet or not. I post it here because I love sharing it with you guys and bringing you joy too. But my life does not revolve around this story. And hearing things like that make it feel like you expect me to update because you told me to.

I'm about to move to a new city and start graduate school and have to find a new job all at once. Mid August, updates will probably come to a screeching halt until I work my life out. And if people say things like "get writing already," that's going to make me more frustrated and probably put me off writing altogether.

TL;DR - I love you guys. I love reviews. I hate being told what to do. Please don't do that.


	21. Chapter 21

You guys are such absolute sweethearts! You know that I wasn't talking to the majority of you, right?

In return for the wonderful feedback I got, here's one more (and probably one of the last) 24 hour update! Mostly because you all are wonderful, but party because someone posted some creepy as hell Slenderman gifs on Tumblr and I decided staying up until 5:30AM and writing was better than turning the lights off.

This chapter comes with 100 percent more Loki! Oh, and also some plot. But mostly Loki.

* * *

With the sheers drawn in front of the doors, what sunlight did come in was watery and soft, and Natasha was able to drift off to sleep quickly. As she felt herself slip out of consciousness, she was half aware of a slight tingling along her limbs, arcing towards her heart, and she knew he was coming.

Sure enough, she found herself almost immediately in the helicarrier. She stood at the control panel for the glass cell, and on the other side of the glass, there he was.

How had she not noticed him sooner? How had she written him off as an enemy, never seeing the depth of feeling behind those eyes? How had she not suspected what those overlarge hands could do to her?

Without thinking, her fingers flew over the controls to open the cell. She crossed the walkway and stepped in as the glass slid shut behind her.

Everything was moving in that strange, languid way that goes hand in hand with dreams and seems perfectly natural to the dreamer. She had no memory of seeing Loki rise from the bench and move towards her, and yet there he was, skimming his fingertips along her bare arms with a gentle smile that contradicted the need growing in his eyes.

One of his hands left off its light stroking to take her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilt her face upwards. She complied unthinkingly and was rewarded with a lingering kiss. He nudged at the seam between her lips, requesting entrance which was happily granted.

She could feel a pleasant numbness spreading through her, as though his kisses were drugging her. When he drew back and she opened her eyes, she was lain out on the bench, his body covering hers. Already she could feel his breath becoming uneven in warm gusts against her throat, and she could feel him growing harder against her inner thigh.

Her hand, seemingly of its own volition, snaked its way down to caress him through the layers of leather. He rocked against her hand slowly, slowly, his eyes locked on hers and holding them there.

He said nothing, but through that gaze she could feel the affection and possessiveness wash over her, intensifying the heat between her legs.

Still held fast in the grip of those eyes, Natasha's lips fell open with a silent gasp as cool air washed over her. Their clothes were gone, leaving every inch of skin open to exploration and worship. The fact that the walls surrounding them were clear glass didn't even register to her.

Instead, her universe narrowed to what Loki was doing to her with clever fingers and hushed, wordless murmurs in her ear, strangely soothing and electrifying all at once. He dragged his lips across the shell of her ear, warm breath brushing across her skin as he slid deep inside her.

Her head arched back and he took that opportunity to place wet kisses against the point where her pulse thrummed, sucking but never biting. Tonight wasn't about that. There was nothing frenzied or desperate about the way he eased his way in and out of her core, the way he ran his palms along her sides and up to her breasts to trace the mark he had left on her skin.

They had all the time in the world.

Natasha felt all of the tension drain from her body as the pleasure grew, leaving her so relaxed that her body was slow to respond to her. One arm hung limp off the edge of the bench, the other draped across his shoulders, moving only when he did. Had her legs not been crossed at the ankles behind him, they would most likely be dangling too.

She mustered the energy to lift her head and seal her lips to his. She could feel the warmth building within her, could tell it was building for him too from the minute increases in his pace. With her hips, she managed tiny upward jerks to spur him on, but with one hand he stilled her, a kind of quiet delight in his smile.

He lowered his mouth to hover over her heart, over his mark. He pressed his lips against it in a reverential kiss. Then, with one final thrust inward, he parted his lips to suck on the mark as hard as he could.

Fire crested over Natasha, swept through her body and stole the air from her lungs. She felt him tremble above her and then burst inside her, his eyes closed tight but his brows drawn up and his jaw gone slack with perfect ecstasy.

When the fire had quieted to smoldering embers and Loki had collapsed against her, she lifted one hand to comb through the sections of his hair that had fallen forward, obscuring his face from her view.

She would save this man. A flicker of worry rose in her mind, wishing she could tell him everything. But no, not yet.

"Natasha!"

That was Clint's voice. What was he doing here?

She felt a calloused hand shake her shoulder, heard his voice again.

"Nat, we've been made. I don't know how, but they're here. Get up!"

With those words, she was up and alert in an instant, throwing into her bag the few things she'd removed. Thankfully her wig was still in place.

She looked to her partner and saw him affixing paracord to the balcony railing.

"You first," he said, pulling at the knot to make sure it was stable.

She didn't need to be told twice. Without a second thought, her bag was slung across her chest and she was climbing down the exterior wall towards the ground.

"They're in here!" a rough voice called out in thickly accented English.

"Shit!"

She glanced up to see Clint only just jumping the railing as she heard the sickening sound of the room's door being smashed apart. There was no way they hadn't seen him, even if it was only for a moment.

She dropped the last six or so feet to make way for Barton's descent.

Without a single glance back, they tore off down the side streets until their lungs burned and their vision swam and they could say without a shadow of a doubt that they had lost their pursuers.

They flagged down a cab to take them to the airport, Natasha already on the phone booking last minute tickets. Naples probably wasn't safe for her anymore, and it certainly wasn't safe for Clint. They needed to get back to New York immediately.

"Any thoughts on how that happened?" she asked him in a hushed voice.

He shook his head, his expression purposely neutral but his eyes betraying the flurry of thoughts rushing through his mind.

"Fury won't be happy that we've had to cut our trip short."

"Fury might have to get over it until we figure out what went wrong," he said, closing the subject for the moment.

* * *

"So what you're telling me is that my two best agents have put themselves out of the running to get on that yacht and find out what DiDomenico is doing," Fury said, his tone deceptively calm.

Clint refused to make direct eye contact and kept silent, knowing from experience that it was best to let the director get it all out before stepping in. Natasha, however, had an idea.

"No, sir, that's not what we're telling you. Only Barton was seen. I had on sunglasses and a wig at the restaurant, and I was long gone before the men broke into the room. I believe I could make it onto that boat without raising any alarm bells."

"But I need two agents. I'm not sending anyone in alone. I would have wanted you and Barton to go undercover as a couple"

"All due respect, sir, Barton has already been seen by some of this man's associates. Having him as one of the primary agents on the case poses risks that I don't think either of us is willing to accept."

"No."

"I didn't ask anything yet."

"Romanoff, you didn't need to. I'm not letting you take Loki on a mission like this. Who knows what kind of shit he'll stir up?"

She paused, uncertain if she was about to do the right thing.

"He has - he has certain abilities that would make him invaluable in an undercover scenario."

"Such as?" Fury raised an eyebrow, wary but interested to hear what she had to say.

"He can shape-shift."

There. It was out in the open now. She couldn't take it back if she wanted to.

"Want to run that by me again?" his interest was keenly piqued now. She could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

"He can do more than just project doubles. He can alter his appearance however he wants. Even if he is made in the middle of the mission, he could just shift into someone else and continue with surveillance. And you know me," she gave a wry smile, "I can take care of myself."

Fury mulled it over for a moment, his brows drawn together in thought. When he looked up, he had a smile - or at least what passed for a smile when it came to the director.

"Alright, Romanoff. You and Loki will be the primaries on this, and Barton, I still want you involved. You'll be on standby if anything goes wrong. We have just over two weeks, now. This mission needs to be flawless."

Natasha looked over to see Clint's reaction. To her surprise, he looked almost guilty. Did he feel responsible for getting himself seen? She would talk to him later to make sure he didn't put the blame on himself.


	22. Chapter 22

Blargh. This was supposed to be up last night, but my internet decided to throw a hissy fit and not even bring up ffnet. So here it is, late, but lovely and long and with some legitimate plot this time!

* * *

Natasha walked out of the SHIELD psychiatric office with a scowl etched into her face. That had been two and a half hours of her life completely wasted.

Dr. Caruthers may have been a brilliant woman and an expert in PTSD, but she was also a simpering, condescending cow, and if Natasha ever had to speak to her again, she was reasonably certain that would end with her punching the good doctor in the throat.

She bit back a laugh; that would definitely result in a failing mark on her next psychiatric assessment.

But now she was cleared for active duty, which was handy since they only had two weeks until the yacht party.

She still hadn't asked Loki about going with her. It had been thirty-six hours with no word from the god, and she hadn't wanted to summon him with the mark, still a little wary of its effects.

She had, however, heard from Thor. That morning there had been a note slipped under her apartment door, "She said yes," scrawled on it in Thor's expansive handwriting. No word about how or when or where, but that was Thor for you. Not especially detail oriented.

* * *

There was a cab waiting at the curb when she stepped out of the building. Strange, she was never that lucky - at least not when she was in New York. It stayed there until she reached it and opened the passenger door.

"Hello, darling."

There, already in the backseat, was a man who sounded for all the world like Loki, but looked nothing like him. The man wore jeans, a criminally sheer t-shirt, and a leather jacket and had short ginger curls. If it hadn't been for the wicked smile and the greener-than-green eyes, she would have assumed she had imagined it.

"Hello, Loki," she slid into the backseat next to him, "I like what you've done with your hair."

"Where to?" the cabbie asked.

Natasha gave him her address and turned back to Loki, "I'm glad you decided to visit, actually. I've got something I need to talk to you about."

"Fury's mission? I already knew about that. He asked my dear brother to pass along the message. It seems simple enough, so I will do it. No," he paused, "the reason I have come is to inquire after your plans for tonight."

"I had been thinking pizza, beer, and crap television. Did you have something better in mind?" she asked.

He leaned close to whisper, his cool breath fluttering a few loose strands of her hair, "Infinitely so."

The cab pulled up to the curb in front of her apartment building and stopped. Loki handed him a wad of bills and stepped out, saying, "Wear something formal. I'll come to you."

And with that, he vanished, leaving Natasha alone on the sidewalk and very intrigued.

* * *

So, being sexily secretive might work most of the time, but when it came to choosing clothes, the lack of detail frustrated Natasha. She didn't like going in blind, and she didn't like the idea that she might choose something inappropriate and stand out in a bad way.

Standing out like that could get you killed.

She took out every evening gown she owned and laid them out on the bed, pacing around it and assessing each of them.

The whites she ruled out immediately, along with the reds and that one violet one that had never fit quite as well as she had hoped. The two blue ones seemed somehow wrong, and she was leaning away from the chocolate brown one, if only because she didn't think it would suit Loki's black-as-sin hair.

That left the green and the two blacks.

She had no idea how formal Loki wanted, and so ruled out the green. Black was more versatile. She held the final two gowns up, examined them, and grimaced.

There was still a bullet hole in one. So that didn't seem suitable. That left her with one.

* * *

Just as the last hint of burnished gold had sunk below New York's skyline, Natasha examined herself in the mirror. She had pinned her curls to one side so they formed a cascade across her left shoulder. Minimal makeup, no jewelry apart from an emerald bracelet and matching earrings, and that dress. Sleeveless with a boat neck cut in the front, and the back draped down to below her shoulder blades.

She heard soft footsteps on the hardwood and turned to find Loki standing in the doorway in his full regalia, his jaw slightly slackened and his eyes wide and appreciative.

"I take it this is alright?"

She watched his adam's apple bob as he nodded.

"Absolutely."

"I'm glad," she hooked her arm around his, "Now will you tell me where we're going?"

"Thor's coronation. Heimdall?" he said, and with that, they vanished.

* * *

When they reappeared in Asgard, it took Natasha several long, deep breaths to stop the room from spinning. It didn't seem any better than the last time she had traveled that way, and she wondered if she would ever acclimate to its effects.

Loki rubbed his hand in slow, soothing circles on her back, the feel of his deliciously cool skin against hers doing wonders to settle her stomach.

"Better?"

She stretched up to place a brief kiss on his lips and nodded, "Much. Should we go in now?"

"If you're certain you are prepared. They have the tendency to seem...overwhelming, at first."

When she had promised she was, he twined his fingers with hers, swept aside the curtain panel concealing them, and entered the main hall.

He introduced her to everyone with a dazzling smile, completely oblivious to the sidelong glances and skeptical looks he was receiving. Volstagg expressed his pleasure at meeting her again and Fandral placed a gentlemanly kiss to her hand, but Hogun and Sif were distant and merely civil, quickly finding excuses to be elsewhere. Clearly, they were less than thrilled that he was out of his cell at all.

It wasn't until they reached the head of the room that there were people just as happy to see Loki as he was to see them.

"Natasha, I would like you to meet the man and woman who raised me," he led her to a raised platform where there stood a warrior, covered in battle scars, and a woman who seemed to radiate calm and warmth.

"Your majesties," Natasha nodded respectfully.

"Loki, is this the woman you've refused to tell me anything about?" the woman asked with a knowing smile, "Natasha, is it? I am Frigga, and this is my husband, Odin. I cannot tell you our delight at finally meeting the woman who is to thank for my son's recent happiness."

"As well as the woman who has fought alongside our elder son on more than one occasion," Odin added. He looked approving, but more reserved than his wife.

"I admire both of your sons enormously and I'm proud to be able to call them my close friends," she said, uncertain what was actually appropriate to say in a situation like this.

Thanks, Mr. and Mrs. Allfather. I loved helping your one son capture your other. I've also really enjoyed sleeping with the other son. He's swell, and boy does he take that Silver-Tongue nickname seriously.

No, definitely not that.

"We really ought to find Thor and offer him our congratulations on his long-awaited day. If you will excuse us," Loki bowed slightly to Odin and flashed that bright smile at his mother before slipping his arm around Natasha to guide her back into the crowd.

"Natasha, I hope you'll find me once more before you return home. I would love an opportunity to learn more about the woman from Midgard who has stolen my son's heart," Frigga called. Something in her expression told Natasha that this was more than just a request. It was a requirement.

"Of course," she said as she and Loki slipped back into the throng of people.

After a few minutes of wandering and searching through the increasingly intoxicated gods, Natasha began to wonder if Thor had bailed on his own party. It wasn't until she heard his voice booming over the din that she was able to find him, catching Loki's attention and pointing towards his brother.

"Thor!" he called.

"Brother!" Thor crossed the room easily, barreling through the people as if they weren't even there.

He scooped up both Loki and Natasha in a hug that threatened to crush the air from their lungs, his face stretched in a grin so wide it was a wonder his cheeks didn't hurt.

"There are not two souls in the Nine Realms with whom I would be better pleased to share this day with than you," he laughed, "And it is going over much more smoothly than my first coronation day!"

Loki rolled his eyes, "I meant only for it to be a little prank."

"A prank that ended in my meeting the woman I love, so all is forgiven. Now, come brother! There is much I would say to you," and without so much as a goodbye, Thor was absorbed in his own world and whisking Loki away.

Frigga met Natasha's eyes across the room and gestured subtly towards a quiet corridor leading away from the festivities. She stood from her throne and started that way, leaving Natasha little choice but to follow.

* * *

"Natasha, Loki may keep his own counsel, but Thor has told me much about you. He has told me you are a woman with a past you would rather forget, but that you are a woman of strength and integrity and goodness and above anything else, a stubborn woman."

She wondered where the goddess was going with this.

"I do not pretend that my younger son is an easy man to deal with. You will need all of that strength and stubbornness to save him. But you will also need these."

She reached into the folds of her dress and pulled out a drawstring purse, "Thor bade me give this to you. It may seem slight, but inside are apples from Iduna."

Natasha extended her hand to accept the bag from Frigga, then paused. She looked up at the woman who raised the man for whom she was doing all this and asked, "Is he worth it?"

Frigga looked taken aback at her words, "Do you not love him?"

"Yes, more than I should," she admitted, "but I still don't know if I can trust him. What's to stop him from snapping again and wreaking some new kind of destruction?"

"You," the woman's tone was gentle, her lips turned up in a quiet smile, "He knows that Thor and I love him dearly, but I do not believe that was ever enough to calm his fears and insecurities about himself. But you, my child? You loved him when he was at his lowest, and he will never forget that."

"But is that enough? Enough to take these, to take such a risk?"

Natasha felt Frigga's fingertips cup her chin, tipping her face up to meet her gaze.

"I cannot make that decision for you, Natasha. I can only offer a mother's opinion. I have seen the way my son looks at you. Never before have I seen him so content, so genuinely happy. You and I both know he would tear down the worlds tree itself for you. The only question that remains is: will you?"

And there it was. Summed up so neatly that, had it been anyone but Frigga who said it, Natasha would have felt small and ashamed of her hesitance.

"I will save him," she accepted the tiny bag, tucking it into her clutch and hoping she was making the right decision.

"Mother, do you plan to keep this dazzling creature to yourself all night?" Loki swept in from nowhere and placed a dutiful kiss on her cheek.

"I would not dream of it," she squeezed her son's hand, "She is yours."

It was at that moment that Natasha felt a yawn coming on.

"Natasha, should I take you home?"

"No, I would feel bad taking you away from the party early," she said.

Loki shook his head, "It would not trouble me in the slightest. Goodnight, Mother. Make my excuses to everyone, would you?"

Frigga agreed and Loki led Natasha back to the Bifrost.

* * *

"Would you like me to stay the night?" he asked with a smirk, helping her shrug off her dress.

He leaned in to kiss her, but was cut off by another yawn from her mouth. She tried to apologize through it.

"Or perhaps I could simply tuck you into bed?"

He drew back the covers for her, tucking back a runaway curl and pressing his lips to her forehead.

"No, stay, please?" she curled up and patted the spot beside her, "Unless you need to go back."

"No one will mind if I do not return tonight," he said as he climbed into bed and wrapped his arms around her.

He turned the lights out and murmured, "Good night," to her just before she slipped into unconsciousness, a small smile still on her lips.


	23. Chapter 23

Whoo! We're almost to the big, exciting, action-packed chapters! And this coming weekend, I move into my new house, so expect probably one more chapter before then, and after that... I'll try to update at least once a week. No guarantees, though. I hope you guys decide to stay with me, though, because there's some seriously fun stuff in the works!

* * *

That night, when Natasha dreamt, she dreamt of Frigga. The woman was nowhere to be seen, but her voice filled the golden expanse of the dreamscape.

"There was not nearly time enough for me to warn you, Natasha," the voice began, "of the dangers that come with the gift you have accepted."

"What dangers?"

"Loki has been lied to all his life, and for that I am partially to blame. He is quick to suspect and quick to mistrust, and I fear that once his trust is broken, no force in any of the realms is strong enough to repair it. You, he still trusts implicitly. It is imperative that he not discover the apples, Natasha. He will recognize them at once, and that will be the wedge that drives you apart."

The voice paused and let out a sigh full of regret, "I wish it were not such a burden, this task we ask of you. But you are strong, and Thor has faith in you. I have faith in you. So, please, save my son."

"I will, I promise," she said, but by then she could feel the goddess's presence already receding, could feel the dream fading.

* * *

It was still dark when she felt the bed shift with Loki's weight.

"Where're y'going?"

"Natasha, I must leave you for now," he whispered. His lips met hers in a warm, languid kiss, lulling her back to unconsciousness, "You need not wake up now; I simply disliked the thought of leaving without saying goodbye."

"Bye, Loki," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

She was dimly aware of long, slender fingers smoothing her hair back from her face before she drifted off.

* * *

The sky was still mostly dark the next time she woke up, the sun just creeping over the horizon. She glanced over at the clock to check the time: 5:47. Early, but not so early that she could really justify going back to sleep.

With one hand, she reached over to the other side of the bed. The sheets were mussed but cold. She hadn't dreamt it. He had spent the night, but he was long gone by now. It was a shame, she thought. She missed all the uninterrupted time together they had had while trapped in Asgard. Now it seemed there was always something coming up to pull them their separate ways.

With a grimace at the chill of the room, she slipped out from under the warm covers and found her clutch from the night before sitting on the dresser. Her eyes widened as she remembered what was in it, and her fingers undid the clasp quickly.

The pouch was still there, tucked alongside her lipstick and knife, undisturbed. She set the clutch back down and turned the pouch over in her hands, examining it as she walked to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

Made from buttery leather and covered with gold designs, swirling and intertwining like delicate roots or branches, it seemed too small to hold even one apple, but when she undid the drawstring, the inside of the bag went on far beyond what it should have. And inside, though the pouch weight next to nothing, there had to be at least two or three dozen of the most photo-shoot worthy fruits she had ever seen. Candy red with gold dappling, and a smell like crispness and autumn.

Without consciously deciding anything, she saw her fingers curl around one and pull it from the pile, closing the bag after. She knew it would probably have been smarter to wait until Thor or Erik or, hell, even Banner were there, just in case something went wrong, but that didn't stop her from raising the perfect fruit to her lips and sinking her teeth into the firm, crisp flesh.

At first, she was a little disappointed. It was easily the most delicious thing she had ever tasted, but she had expected - she didn't know - lasers to shoot from her eyes or something. Something exciting. Maybe it just didn't do anything for humans. Maybe she and Thor needed a plan B.

Then she felt it.

It was as though sunlight had exploded in her stomach, radiating outward and illuminating her from beneath her skin. Every tiny ache and twinge in her body vanished, her limbs felt loose and fluid, her thoughts were clearer and quicker. She saw an ugly black bruise on her thigh fade to a faint shadow of what it used to be, could feel the blood flowing through her veins.

By the time she had finished the apple, she could feel her senses heightening too. Sounds were not necessarily louder, but clearer and more distinct. Her vision was crisper, more vibrant. She could pick out the bitter scent of the coffee, the chemical smell of the cleaning supplies under the sink, the faint spice of her perfume from last night. And the last lingering hints of Loki, of the air the night before a snowstorm.

She looked down at the apple core in her hand and hoped that this would be enough to save him from whatever was coming their way.

"I smell coffee," a hopeful voice came from the hallway, followed by the sound of a door clicking shut.

She started suddenly, upset with herself for having forgotten he was still here. With the prophecy and Thor and Loki, it had slipped her mind completely. Natasha stuffed the pouch in the far back corner of the fridge's fruit drawer, knowing he would never go in there.

"Morning, 'Tasha," he yawned widely as he pulled a mug down from the cabinet above the coffee maker.

She turned to him, about to say 'good morning' too, but stopped when she saw his expression. His eyes were massive, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion, his jaw slack with surprise.

"Clint, what is wrong with you?"

"Me?" he scoffed, "I'm not the one with eyeballs that are fucking glowing!"

She didn't even bother asking him what he meant. She bent down to look at her reflection in the glass of the oven door.

He was right. They weren't exactly glowing like a light or a fire, but she could see sparks of light or electricity or maybe even magic jumping around her irises, giving the seafoam green an unnatural look that she knew she'd have a hard time hiding.

Then, as she thought that, the sparks faded. She stood and turned back to Clint.

"It looks like I have more to tell you," she said.

"Y'think?"

* * *

"-so this really needs to work, because there's less than two weeks before the yacht party now, and I have a feeling that, if anything is going to go down, it'll be there."

Again, she saw that expression on his face, somewhere between worried and guilty.

"Clint, you know it's not your fault you got spotted in Italy, right?. Just because you're not primary on this doesn't mean I'm defenseless," she reassured him, "You can't keep kicking yourself over that."

He gave her a long look, then nodded.

"Yeah, alright. I'll try."

* * *

This chapter is dedicated to the anon whose review simply said, "*weeps into pizza". Because that image is too funny.


	24. Chapter 24

Quick note to the guest reviewer who mentioned the rune, Ansuz, being sacred to Odin and not Loki - After I got your review, I pulled my rune dictionary out to double check myself, and in mine it does say it's associated with Loki. Wiki, however, is on your side. So I'm not really sure what to go with, and will be leaving it as is.

And now the chapter!

* * *

As the days until the assignment dwindled, Natasha could feel the anxiety rising in her throat like bile. If it had still been Clint she was working with, this wouldn't be a problem at all.

One, Loki wouldn't be in danger and two, she and Clint had been working together for years. After that amount of time spent in close quarters, each one relying on and trusting the other to save their lives if it came to it, they had built up a strong rapport. They could have an entire conversation through just facial expressions. They had an entire language in hand and body signals. She and Loki, while they had phenomenal sexual and emotional chemistry...just didn't have that.

So Natasha had convinced Loki to train with her. Not at SHIELD, hell no. There was something that felt wrong about bringing him there and then handing him weapons, regardless of how deeply convinced she was that he had changed. No, she had talked to Tony and Steve about lending them Steve's gym in Stark Tower for a few hours each day.

It wouldn't get them up to the level of synchronicity that she had with Clint, but it would give her a sense of his strong and weak points so she could plan her strategy around them.

* * *

On day three, with only nine days to go, Natasha wanted to try something.

"Loki, I have an idea. This time, no magic. No tricks, no illusions, just fight me."

"Any reason in particular?" he asked, one brow arched in curiosity.

"You use it as a crutch," she grinned when he looked affronted, "You're incredible with your magic, but we don't know what we'll be walking into on that boat. Your hand to hand is not exactly your strong point, and you need to shore it up."

He nodded, relenting. After tipping his head back to take a long drink from the water bottle on the bench nearest him, he stood on the mat before her, crouched in a fighting stance.

"The first move is yours, Natasha."

She smiled as she threw herself into a roll and came up behind him, nearly landing a quick jab before he spun and leapt back. Unfazed, she moved forward, throwing a series of punches towards his throat that he easily deflected.

She threw one more punch, but when he moved to deflect, she swept her leg in a high kick aimed at his head. Right when it should have connected, he vanished. With no force to stop her leg, she was thrown off balance, falling to the ground.

Instead, she fell against his chest, his arms coming under and catching hers.

"Damn it, Loki! What did I just say?"

"Force of habit," he said, trailing his lips along the line of her throat.

She couldn't suppress the shudder and the ripple of heat that ran up her spine, but she refused to let him off scot free. With one quick move, she had him flipped face down on the ground, straddling his tailbone and smirking.

"Now, let's try this again," and with a teasing roll of her hips, she stood.

* * *

By day seven, they were starting to understand each other's battle styles and adapting themselves to suit the other. There was no substitute for years of camaraderie, but Natasha was finally quieting the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach somewhat.

Just not entirely.

Loki's hand to hand combat was improving by leaps every day, but he had yet to score a solid victory against her without resorting to magic. He had come spectacularly close, but close wasn't enough to assuage her doubts.

"I think I've figured it out."

"What is that?"

"Why you're having difficulty beating me," she sat on the bench next to him, "You're too tall."

When she saw the incredulous look he was giving her, she continued, "No, think about it. Barefoot, I'm only five-foot-four. Compact. Quick. You're what, six-foot-two? Appropriate for an immortal trying to look imposing, but all of that extra height isn't doing your speed any favors. You've got more mass than me, so it takes more effort for you to make fast changes in direction."

"What do you suggest I do to correct this? Shrink?" he asked, and right before her eyes is legs, arms, torso all shortened until he was on eye level with her.

"Absolutely not," laughing at his new proportions, she shook her head, "but you're used to relying on your speed with magic, and thinking in those same terms with physical combat isn't translating well. We're just going to have to figure something out."

* * *

It was near the end of day eleven, with only one day left before the mission, that Natasha and Loki collapsed on the floor of Steve's gym, panting, their muscles thoroughly turned to jelly.

"I think we've done it," she turned her face to him and smiled, "I think we're ready."

It had taken days of absolute no-holds-barred training to develop a fighting style for Loki that suited his height and didn't require magic for him to best her about sixty percent of the time. Natasha maintained that, had he not played dirty and bitten the sensitive spot on the back of her neck, the percentage would have been lower.

"Whether or not we're ready is largely immaterial at this point, as the mission is the day after tomorrow," he replied.

She shrugged and closed her eyes as she concentrated on taking deep, slow breaths to return her heart rate to normal. Even with her eyes closed, though, she could sense the god looming above her.

"After all of our efforts, do you not think we deserve some sort of reward?" he whispered against her jawbone, nipping softly at the skin as he made his way towards her lips.

Sighing in agreement, she wove one hand in his hair, surprisingly tidy after all they had done that afternoon.

He took that as a sign of encouragement and dropped down to latch onto her mouth, moaning at the sudden electric sensation that overtook his lips. The next sensation he noticed was that of slender fingers slipping under his shirt, damp from their exertion, and yanking it over his head. He mourned the brief obstacle between them, but the instant it was gone he had descended again, or she had risen up - he wasn't pay attention anymore. His focus had narrowed to the plush warmth of her mouth, the soft scrape of her nails on his scalp, the torturous heat of her hips rocking against his. Anything beyond that failed to capture his attention.

"Loki," she breathed against his skin, "More."

That was one order he was delighted to obey. His hands flew to her shirt, immediately stripping it from her body and then making quick work of her sports bra. He lowered his head to pay his respects to those breasts when they were jolted from their private world.

"If I had known this was what you were going to be using Steve's gym for, I probably would have said no. Or possibly set up cameras with better sound quality. One or the other."

Natasha heard Loki let out a soft grown of frustration as he looked up to see Stark. She pulled her shirt back on, not worrying about the bra, and tilted her head back to look at him, standing there in the doorway, half of his face taken up by an amused smirk.

"What do you want, Tony?" she said, keeping her exasperation out of her voice.

"Oh, nothing that has to happen right now. Just passing along the message that Hawk wants to discuss your game plan for the mission after dinner tonight," he said, "Feel free to return to your regularly scheduled program now."

As he left, they could hear him sniggering even after the door slid shut.

Loki dropped his head to rest against Natasha's shoulder and sighed, "I am not overly fond of Stark."

"Understatement of the century."

* * *

A/N: I just imagine JARVIS sounding very British and nonplussed and alerting Tony that they're getting it on in the gym, and Tony doing a little diabolical hand wringing on his way to spoil it.

If it's my fic, does that make my headcanon actual canon?


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter twenty-five! At last! Never thought it would get this long, and there's still so much more to come.

You guys are fantastic for waiting so patiently.

* * *

Loki and Natasha spent the better part of the next day buried in piles of documents, learning everything they could about DiDomenico - his history, his methods, his friends, his enemies. Natasha had already committed most of this to memory, but something had her second guessing everything. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong on this mission.

She wasn't generally one to get vibes about things; she wondered if it had something to do with the apples. One by one, they had been dwindling, the inside of the bag slowly shrinking to match. So far, there had only been one recurrence of the glowing eyes, but aside from that, Natasha had no idea what other powers they might be giving her. Who was to say foresight wasn't one of them?

Or she might just have been getting paranoid. She was definitely more on edge than usual. The other night, Clint had been rummaging around in the kitchen for a midnight snack. Natasha had heard the noise, assumed it was an intruder, and nearly shot him.

He had laughed at her for ages, but he had also sworn to her that he wouldn't tell anyone. There was no reason to start people wondering if she was losing it.

"Natasha?" Loki's voice caught her attention. "What is it that has you so distracted today?"

Caught off guard, she answered honestly, "This mission. I've still got a bad feeling about it."

He set down the folder he had been thumbing through to stretch his hand out, placing it over her own. They sat like that for a moment as he drew a deep breath in and let it out in a pensive sigh.

"If you ask it of me, I will go to your director and extend our regrets. There is still time enough to decline this mission."

She shook her head and, smiling, said, "Not really, there isn't. There isn't enough time for another team to get put together and briefed thoroughly enough. And even if there were, Fury doesn't have another agent as good as me."

"Confident, are we?" he grinned.

"I work hard to make sure I'm the best," she shrugged. She twined her fingers with his and squeezed briefly before returning to her pile of papers, "Come on now. We've got a long night still ahead of us, and a big day tomorrow."

* * *

"Ready?" Natasha asked, her slim fingers tying the ribbons of Loki's mask in a secure knot.

He nodded and patted the knot, reassuring himself that it wouldn't slip at some point during the mission. Then he turned to tie Natasha's mask on. Once he was satisfied, his fingers glided along the lines of her neck, skimming lightly over the surface of her skin and playing along the neckline of her emerald evening gown. She batted his hand away. Undeterred, he turned her to face him and brushed his knuckles against her cheekbone.

"We haven't got time right now," she leaned her head into his hand, her voice sounding more convinced than her face looked, "After. After, I promise."

"I hope you know I plan to hold you to that promise, Natasha," he grinned, stealing a quick kiss before opening the car door.

They were at the pier where the yacht was docked and waiting, partygoers already milling about on the deck. The string lights cast a soft glow over everything and gave it a light, sweet air. Natasha knew better.

They boarded, their forged invitations getting them past security without so much as a raised eyebrow. She made a mental note to thank someone for that later.

She hadn't needed to worry about Loki blending in with the people here. Having been raised a prince, mingling with high society came easily to him, and he placed a hand on the small of her back, effortlessly guiding her through the crowd. Even through the masks, he had a knack for picking out the more important guests and greeting them with just the right amount of enthusiasm to seem likeable, but aloof enough to demand respect. And she played the dazzling but forgettable arm candy flawlessly.

They made their way through the crowd systematically, ruling out potential sources of information and working their way up to their main objective: DiDomenico.

But he was nowhere on the main deck. Natasha wasn't at all surprised. A man like him - he would be somewhere else, a closed room, surrounded by people he trusted implicitly. Getting face time with a man like that would take some work.

She scanned the deck for the tell-tale bulges of guns under jackets. She smiled - there they were. Always a dead giveaway for bodyguards. They were ambling around near the stairwell that led to the lower deck. As she and Loki continued to make their way around the party, she kept one eye trained on it, keeping track of who went in and out and when.

During a lull in between chatting up powerful players in the arms world, Loki pulled Natasha off to a quiet corner of the deck.

"So, Nikola," he started, using her cover identity's name, "I believe that I was promised certain things after we are finished here?"

She ran her fingertips along the sleeve of his tuxedo jacket, "Did you have anything specific in mind?"

"I have a great many things in mind," he said, his smile feral. He leaned down to whisper against her ear.

"Champagne?"

Loki nearly growled at the interruption - a waiter with two glasses on a tray filled with bubbling peach liquid. He restrained himself and accepted the glasses without so much as a second look at the waiter, turning his back on the man to hand one to Natasha.

"A toast?" she asked.

"To luck," he said, "And to what I have planned for you tonight."

As she tipped back the glass, the warmth she felt running throughout her had nothing to do with the alcohol she was consuming. She allowed herself a moment to savor it before returning to the matter at hand.

"Unfortunately, the night's far from over and we still don't know much of anything useful. See the suits by the stairwell?"

He nodded that he did.

"We've got to get past them if we want to search anywhere that he might be hiding things."

"Am I to presume you have a plan?"

"Don't I always?" she said with a smile, "It's not especially complicated or elegant, but it'll work. Just follow my lead, slip through when you have a chance, and I'll find you later."

She didn't even give him a chance to respond before she sped off into the crowd. She paused briefly as she passed a waiter, slipping her hand into his jacket pocket and whispering something into his ear before continuing on her path.

Loki followed her at a careful distance, not yet certain what she had planned. He watched as she maneuvered her way through the crush of tipsy partygoers with ease, flashing that brilliant smile whenever someone made eye contact. It would have been enough to make a lesser man jealous. Then he saw her walk right up to one of the men stationed at the stairwell and, with no lead-in or hesitation, wrap her fingers around his tie and drag the man down to eye level to murmur something.

He eyed him as the man leered at Natasha, then asked the other two guards something. They seemed to agree to whatever it was the first man had said, because Natasha grinned and proceeded to lead him by his tie down the stairs and out of sight. Now, there was jealousy, hot and sour, rising in Loki's gut. It was purely for the mission - he understood that. But it didn't stop him from disliking the entire situation.

Before he could dwell on that for long, the same waiter Natasha had spoken to crashed into a gentleman in a beautifully tailored tuxedo, spilling champagne all over it and toppling the man to the ground. In an instant, the man was up, shouting and swearing at the waiter and practically screaming for the two men still standing at the stairwell to come do something.

And there was his opportunity. Loki smiled as he slipped past the unguarded entryway. He descended one level and started down the hall, listening at each door and opening every room that was silent. He found nothing interesting or pertinent to their mission until the sixth door.

"Took you long enough. Did the waiter screw up?"

There, in the center of the room, sat Natasha on a chaise. On the other side of the room was an armoire, whose doors had been lashed shut with a zip tie. He gave her a curious look.

"The guy was too big. The doors wouldn't stay shut otherwise."

"He is still alive, is he not?" Loki asked.

Natasha rolled her eyes, "Yes, I left him alive. Though he'll have the headache of a lifetime when he wakes up. Deserved it too, the way he was pawing at me."

He shoved down the jealousy that was threatening to rise once more - there would be another time for that. The mission was the most pressing issue at the moment.

"Shall we continue in our search?"

"We shall," she placed her hand on top of his, feigning daintiness.

* * *

They had searched room after room and found nothing. Natasha was used to things like this happening on a mission, but she could sense Loki's growing frustration. There were only a few rooms left to search, but once they were done, she would be comfortable calling it a night and taking Loki back home. After all, she was looking forward to what he had planned as much as he was.

Then, they heard heavy footfalls growing louder and louder, echoing down the corridor.

"Lars? Miss?" a deep voice called out.

"Shit, it's the security guys. Quick, follow my lead," Natasha said as she wrapped her fingers around Loki's scarf and jerked him towards her.

The metal wall was cold against her back and Loki was flush against her front, sending a shiver along her body. She threw one leg up against his him, wrapping her calf behind him to pull him even closer.

"Natasha, what - "

She hooked her arms around his neck and cut him off with a kiss, showy and desperate. Half hamming it up for whoever was about to walk in on them and half because it had been far too long since they had done this outside of a dream, she rutted against him, stifled moans escaping her lips when she pulled back to suck in a lungful of air.

He was hard in an instant, but his eyes bore into her. He wasn't thrilled with her for using this as a cover, as a show for someone else. She was his, and using their relationship like this didn't sit well with him.

His body disagreed though, because his hips were bucking involuntarily into hers and his vision swam with lust. He was just about to ditch the mission and find the nearest dark alcove where he could take her against the wall, standing, their clothes still completely on. The image made him lightheaded.

"Oi! What are you doing here? Guests aren't allowed down here," a thickly muscled man in a suit glowered at them, "And you, miss! What have you done with Lars?"

Natasha leaned back from Loki, her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving as she panted for air. Finally, she said, "Lars wasn't any fun, so I found someone new."

The guard's face darkened with anger, "Where is he now?"

"Hell if I know. Do you mind?" she moved as if to return to kissing Loki.

Before she could, a meaty hand gripped Loki and pulled him off of her. The guard scowled, "The two of you are trespassing where you should not be. I will take you to Mr. DiDomenico. He can decide what to do with you."

As Loki and Natasha let themselves be dragged along, Loki could almost swear that Natasha looked pleased with this turn of events.


	26. Chapter 26

So, I've noticed this thing where some people will go so far as to favorite and follow the story and to favorite and follow me, but there's no notification about a review. And then I get all paranoid and wonder if it's something I did. It's ok, you guys! You can talk to me! In fact, please do! I love all of the favorites and follows you guys give to this story and to me, but reviews are the best thing ever.

* * *

"Miss - ?"

"Nikola."

"Miss Nikola, then. Would you care to explain what possessed you to skulk - this is the word I want, yes? - to skulk in the bottom of my yacht? Especially because of the men I pay to discourage this?"

DiDomenico's eyes flashed as he stared Natasha down. A lesser woman might have cracked under the glare from those black eyes and the hard lines of his face. Natasha, though, took it as a challenge. She pasted on a guilty grin.

"You caught me. I was after a little extracurricular activity. My bad."

"Extracurricular?" he looked confused.

"A little side action? Freelance work? An appetizer?" the guilty smile turned sly, "Only your boy wasn't so appetizing, so I ditched him and found my date instead."

Loki had caught on to her game and joined in, "Sir, you and I, we are both businessmen of a kind. You would not wish for someone to detain your...employee. Likewise, I would prefer you to release mine and myself. We have more - more urgent matters to which I would very much like to attend."

For good measure, he threw in a rakish smirk as he eyed Natasha from head to toe.

"You and I are not so alike as you seem to think, signore. I do not pay my women to get in my bed," Arnaud scoffed, still looking unconvinced.

"Business comes easier to me than affairs of the heart. An exchange of money is so much simpler, do you not think?" the words tripped easily from Loki's silver tongue, "And you are wasting my time now. I came here with an idea to propose a partnership of sorts, but if this is how you deal with all of your associates, then I have a mind to leave."

Natasha blinked. What was he playing at? Did he think they were going to get another chance like this to get information on DiDomenico? But she assumed he had a plan, so she rolled with it. Since the chair they had shoved her in was directly next to Loki's, it was easy for her to drag the toe of her stiletto along his calf teasingly. She had played the escort before; it wasn't foreign territory to her.

"Lucas," she purred to Loki, "Why _don't _we just leave now? I'm tired of this party anyway."

Every second this conversation dragged on, Natasha's impulse to call in Clint grew stronger. She could handle herself, but there was no telling for certain how Loki would react if this all went sour.

"And we are tired of waiting," the man in the suit to DiDomenico's left growled, "One minute, Miss Romanoff - I'm sorry, Nikola."

Arnaud whipped his head around to see what his man was doing, only to be met with the side of a pistol flat against his face. His eyes rolled back and he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

This was what Natasha had meant by sour. Fan-fucking-tastic. Her left hand pressed against her chest in what looked like shock, but was actually to depress the panic button hidden in the diamond pin on her gown. Clint would get the signal and come running. Then, without a second thought, Natasha pulled a gun from her thigh holster and flicked the safety off.

"This need not become a scene, Agent. We have no interest in you. It is your gentleman friend who has piqued our interest, or rather, the interest of powerful people with large coffers."

"Can I just shoot you now or are you still talking?" she glanced over at Loki and did a double take.

His hands were empty, no weapon in sight. But stranger than that, and more worrying to Natasha was his face. His eyes were wide with confusion and alarm. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. She wasn't going to take the time to figure out what. She reached inside for the well of magic she had been gradually growing more accustomed to.

No response.

It was like knocking on a door to a house you knew had people inside - you could see the lights and the silhouettes - but no one would answer the door, and it was bolted tight. What the hell?

"I had not yet finished, but you're still welcome to shoot, Agent Romanoff. Just know that you'll most likely be dead before you will have the chance to even consider firing a second shot," he smiled coolly, "Judging by your friend's face, I would say that he has already noticed that something is wrong. We have, of course, drugged him. You too, though I am uncertain how the drug will react to your chemistry. I was told it was calibrated to the gentleman's physiology. It was just simpler to give you both that particular vintage of champagne than to drug only one glass and hope you chose rightly."

Loki spoke at last, "Who gave you the drug? A petty thug could not possibly know how to cut off a god from his magic."

The man raised an eyebrow at that, "Gods? Magic? And here I was under the impression that you had had only the one glass tonight, 'Mr. Lucas'. Was I mistaken?"

How did Natasha always end up with the guys who loved to shoot their mouths off? But she wasn't complaining; it made for easy information. So whoever paid the bodyguard to capture Loki didn't tell him the whole story. That would have been great if the mystery person hadn't also given him the drug that made them both powerless and was starting to give Natasha double vision and vertigo. She would be worse than useless soon - she would be a liability. Looking over at Loki, it didn't seem like he was any better off. Her gun hand wobbled. She quickly steadied it with her other hand, but not before their target turned poisoner noticed.

"Aah, so it is having an effect on you as well! Interesting."

Natasha's vision was starting to go grey at the edges, her heart was beating like a jackhammer, and she wondered, where the fuck was Clint? She heard a thud a few feet away. Loki was down and she was on her own.

"Finally," the man signaled to the other two to bind Loki.

She sank to the ground, her head spinning. She heard the door fly open and smack against the wall, heard a familiar voice shouting. Before she blacked out completely, she pointed her gun at one of the men lifting Loki and pulled the trigger.

* * *

"Nat! Nat, please wake up - I really need you to be ok!"

That was Clint's voice. He sounded almost...frightened? It took a monumental effort to open her eyes, but eventually Natasha managed it.

"Is she up yet?"

Was that Agent Carter? What was Sharon doing with Clint? And what was going on?

"Oh, Natasha, you need to stop scaring the shit out of me like that, ok?" she saw Clint smile from above her, "Yeah, she's up! No sign of a concussion yet either, so that's good."

She turned her head slowly, taking in her surroundings. They were in a small plane - probably one of Stark's - and Sharon was piloting. Clint was standing over her, putting away the tiny flashlight he had used to check for a concussion. And in the seat across from hers was a man who looked vaguely familiar. His shoulder was bandaged and he was tied into the seat like a prisoner.

Oh.

The events leading up to that moment came rushing back. So she had managed to hit him. But wait -

"Where's Loki?" she grabbed Clint's jacket in panic, "Who got him out? Where is he?"

Clint swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he avoided her gaze.

"You going to tell her or should I?" Sharon's voice called from the front of the jet.

Clint shot a glare towards her, ignoring the fact that she was facing away from him and wouldn't see it. He turned back to Natasha, "You were crashing and it was just me. I wasn't prepared for close combat and - and it was you or him, ok? He's a god, he can get himself out of whatever they throw him in. He'll be back by tomorrow morning, I bet."

He tried for a smile, but when he saw Natasha's expression the smile withered, "What?"

"He's not a god! Not right now, at least!" the words were tumbling out, one after another, as a cold hand clenched around her stomach, "They dosed him with something that cancelled his powers out. For fuck's sake, Clint, he's got nothing!"

He took her hand and squeezed it, looking her in the eyes, "But we don't. We've got a hostage. And once he wakes up, we can find Loki. I'll do whatever I can, and we'll find him. Trust me."

She looked to their hostage, then back to Clint. Swallowing the lump of fear in her throat, she nodded.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27 on the 27th! Since it was my 22nd birthday today, I wanted to get this chapter out as a present to you all! Enjoy!

* * *

"Barton, aren't you forgetting something?" Sharon called from the front. She leaned to the left and pulled something up from a small cubby in the wall and tossed it back to him.

In Clint's hands was the little pouch from Frigga. Natasha looked up at him in surprise.

"How did you know?"

"I didn't. Just figured they might come in handy."

With a grateful smile, she accepted the bag and plunged her hand in, retrieving an apple. With just one bite, she could feel the nausea begin to dissipate. After a few more, her vision had cleared and she could feel fresh strength thrumming through her veins. She knew without even looking at Clint's expression that her eyes were sparking again.

She glanced over at their hostage and saw the alarm in his eyes. She reveled in it. His alarm could be used to their advantage when she got around to pulling information out of him. For the moment, though, she was letting the magic soak in until she could feel it crackling all along her limbs. Looking down at her fingers, she half expected to see little threads of light leaping between them.

No sooner had she thought it then minute flashes of lightning came into being, dancing between her fingertips.

"Whoa, now. Agents, I'm willing to bet you two owe me some backstory as to what the hell is going on with Romanoff right now."

"Actually, yeah Nat," Clint said, giving her a careful look, "I wouldn't mind knowing how you're doing what you're doing either."

Natasha was silent for a moment, still captivated by the little lights she had brought into being. Then she blinked, looking up and replying, "I've had time to practice."

She turned to the man still tied to his seat. With a fluid grace she crossed the narrow aisle to him and sank into his lap. She took the edge of the tape over his mouth between her thumb and forefinger and, without warning, tore it off, smiling at the painful grimace that crossed the man's face.

"Your comrades have taken someone very dear to me. I'm happy to make this an even trade. You return him to me, and I spare the lives of your dear ones. Fight me, deny me what I want, and I promise that I will hunt down and slaughter everyone you ever loved. And I'll let you watch."

He stared at her, his blank mask only betrayed by the tiniest tic of the muscles around his eyes.

"No?" she asked.

She sat there, still in his lap, for a long moment before standing with a sigh of disappointment, "I had hoped you would see it my way. Though I can't say I'm terribly surprised. So now, we move on to plan B."

She turned back to face him and, with the first two fingers of her right hand, she pressed the spot directly between his eyes, her jaw set with grim determination.

"Nat?"

"Shh," she said, her eyes never leaving the man's face.

Their captive had gone rigid in his seat. His eyes stared blankly ahead, but the small muscles around them twitched as if he were dreaming. Whatever the dream was, it had to be a nightmare. His fingers kept clenching the armrests, his knuckles white.

"Natasha, what are you doing to him?" Clint refused to be silent about this.

"What I said I would. I'm letting him watch as I hunt down his loved ones. You should know, Clint, that fear of violence is much more effective an interrogation technique than actual violence. Fear makes people sloppy."

His voice was soft as he said, "Anger makes people sloppy too. You should let me take over until you've got your head on straight."

"I'm fine," she snapped.

She pulled her fingertips back from the man's forehead and watched as he came up out of the trance. For all of his stoic blankness from earlier, his eyes now betrayed fear, both at what he had seen and at what Natasha had been able to do to his mind. She was willing to bet that she was nothing he had ever trained for.

"Now, you should really reconsider telling me everything," her voice was low and dangerous.

"SHIELD," their hostage whispered.

"Not who we work for, you idiot. Who do _you_ work for?"

"SHIELD," he repeated.

Clint blinked, "You're telling us you work for SHIELD? What the hell kind of sense does that make? Why would Fury send his own people to work against each other?"

"Fury, yes. He sent me."

"Don't you dare lie to me," Natasha's hands were balled into tight fists, her nails cutting tiny half moons into her palms, "If ever there was a time to lie, I promise you, this is not it. Now try again, the truth this time."

"Fury fears your lover - his brother as well, but his brother has proven an ally."

Natasha turned to Clint, and he could see the worry in her eyes - worry that maybe this man was telling the truth.

"What do you know about the drug we were given?"

The man shook his head, "We were told it would weaken our target, make our job easier. We didn't need details."

"But why capture Loki? Why not just eliminate him?" Clint asked, thinking out loud.

"SHIELD wants him for something. Testing, something to do with your Captain and your Hulk."

Natasha paled. They were going to use Loki to try to create a new super-soldier serum. It made sense. Thor and Loki, everyone from Asgard had strength, stamina, skill that would be invaluable to an army if it could be distilled, extracted, duplicated.

And it wasn't too difficult to believe Fury would authorize it. After all, he had been using the Tesseract to design weapons because of Thor. How big a leap was it really to want to use Loki to design soldiers capable of fighting invaders from other worlds?

She looked back to the man still strapped to his chair. She felt her face flush with anger as she backhanded him as hard as she could. With a growl, she tore off a new piece of duct tape and mashed it against his mouth, silencing him again.

"Clint?" she asked, her voice strangely small.

"Yeah?"

"What do I do now?"

"You come with me and we confront Fury, I guess."

* * *

As they strode into SHIELD headquarters, Natasha ran down the mental checklist of everything she could imagine going wrong. The next few minutes were crucial. Their major advantage was that Fury still knew nothing of her new powers. The only people who really knew about that were Thor, Dr. Selvig, Clint, and Sharon. She knew she could trust them not to betray her.

It was still a strange feeling, having so many people she trusted. But these people were the same ones that she was relying on to help her save Loki, no matter what the director had planned.

When they reached the Fury's office, Clint raised his hand to knock but Natasha shoved the double doors open and burst into the room like a whirlwind. He moved to follow her in, but she held out a hand.

"Let me do this."

So Clint waited outside the room as Natasha crossed to the director's desk, where he sat looking bemused.

"Agent Romanoff, I assume you're here for the debriefing?"

"I need you to listen very, very closely Fury, and then I need you to stop keeping me in the dark and tell me exactly what is going on."

"I'm listening."

"I know what happened on that yacht was your doing. I know the thugs got that drug from you. I know what you want with Loki. What I don't know, and what you're going to tell me, is where he is right now."

The director looked genuinely bothered by what she had said. After all, they had been close for years now, and what he had done had been a violation of her trust.

"Natasha, you know I can't do that."

"Fury, you can and you will," she called up some of the magic she had pooling inside her and threaded it through her voice, "You want me on this project. It makes sense to have me in charge of the project. Loki knows and trusts me. I'm the best person for the job, and the only one who can get him to cooperate. Without me, there's no knowing what he'll do. I can keep him docile and make sure the project goes smoothly."

It was just plausible enough that the small amount of magic was all she needed to convince Fury to go along with her plan.

"And you? You're not against the project?" Fury asked, with the part of his mind still unclouded by her words.

"I'm not happy that I was kept in the dark. But I understand why, and I understand the need for a serum that will equip our soldiers for the new threats coming our way," Natasha said. No direct lies. Give him just enough truth so that the mind doesn't set off any alarm bells. Give him what he wants to hear, and he'll fill in the gaps for himself.

Fury nodded, apparently won over, "Alright. The job is yours. He's down in the underground test lab on the east side."

"Thank you, director."

She swept out of the room with her head held high. As the doors swung shut behind her, she met Clint's gaze with a satisfied smile, and they set off together for the elevator to take them down to the lab where she would find Loki.

* * *

A/N: Who was it who had a bad feeling from Fury a few chapters ago? Because you called it! I had this planned waaaay back when, and threw in a handful of tiny clues here and there that Fury was planning something hinky.


	28. Chapter 28

Hey, look! I'm not dead! So, it turns out that two jobs and three grad classes were more time-consuming than I expected, and add to that a boyfriend and writing and life got squirrely. So updates will probably be about once a month. Sorry that I can't do more than that.

* * *

As their steps echoed hollowly off the cinderblock stairwell, Natasha began to regret her impatience. The elevator had been coming too slowly and she couldn't bear to stand still another instant, so she had taken off down the stairs, Clint hurrying to keep up. It had seemed faster at the time, but the steps down to the lower level labs felt like they would go on forever.

"Nat, slow down for a second!" Clint called.

"For what?"

"We need to talk," he said as she pulled up short in front of him, "We have no idea what it'll be like in there. I need you to promise me that you'll keep your cool."

"Haven't you heard?" she smiled bitterly, "I'm the Ice Queen."

"Seriously, 'tasha."

"Seriously what, Clint? I don't have time for this," she snapped.

"You and I both know you're a phenomenal agent, no one's questioning that. But when it comes to Loki - Nat, you don't see straight when it's about him. That's dangerous, both for you and for him. If this plan of yours - whatever it might be - is going to work, I know it's going to need you to be at your best."

"And lately I haven't been?"

"Not from what I've seen! Two botched missions in a row, one resulting in your partner getting kidnapped and you unconscious on the floor? What if it hadn't been Fury running that show? You'd be dead."

That sobered her. He was right, though she hated to admit it. The old Natasha would have laughed at an agent who made mistakes like that, and then convinced the director to fire them. She looked up at Clint.

"I can't just not worry about him."

"I'm not asking you to. I'm asking you to take a second to breathe before you go bursting in there, and worry about getting him out _safely_."

She drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, "Alright.

"You ready?"

"As I'll ever be," she started down again, taking the last few levels at a more sedate pace.

* * *

The card swipe took their IDs without a problem, admitting them to the lab with a soft whoosh of the doors. Natasha felt a broad, warm hand at her back - Clint was still concerned for her. She appreciated the small show of comfort from her old friend. She had a feeling she would need it.

"Agents Romanoff, Barton, what brings you down here?" a lab tech asked, her smile polite but confused.

Clint stepped in, "The director decided that Agent Romanoff's history with your newest guest could prove beneficial to the project. He installed her as its new head."

"Just happened," he flashed her a grin - the one that Tony had dubbed his Disney face - and she melted.

"Of course, I'll show you to the subject," as the girl said that, Natasha suppressed a grimace at her phrasing.

SHIELD had always been more than a little impersonal about its test subjects, but when they were things like a glowing cube or a DNA sample, it wasn't something that would catch her attention. Now that it was in reference to Loki, it rankled.

When they reached the room where Loki was being kept, Natasha moved to swipe her ID one more time, but the technician held out a hand to stop her.

"You don't have clearance yet. Here, let me," she took Natasha's card and swiped her own. She then jabbed a series of keys with almost mechanical speed before swiping Natasha's ID. When the little light flashed green, she handed back the card with a smile.

She knew Clint noticed her bristling, and she didn't care. She had clearance everywhere. She had to - she needed to be able to go anywhere at a moment's notice. That Fury had been so bent on keeping her out of this loop only reinforced her belief that she wouldn't like what she found on the other side of the door.

* * *

It was worse than she had expected. He looked like he was dying, hooked up to the endless wires and machines and tubes. He was only across the room, but it felt so much further than that. She felt the bottom of her stomach drop out. All of her training didn't stop her from quickly crossing the room to lean over his cot, one hand itching to touch his too-pale face.

She glanced up at the IV bag, squinting to make out the fine print of the liquid's name. It wasn't a drug she recognized. She assumed it was the same drug Fury had given to the thugs on the yacht - that would explain how fragile he looked. It disturbed her, seeing him there like that.

"Natasha?" Clint said.

She heard him, but didn't respond. Instead, she gave in to the impulse to touch Loki, resting her fingertips against his wrist. Her eyes closed and she willed a thin stream of the magic from the apples through her fingers, out, and into him. Not enough for any of the technicians to notice - just enough to give him some color back. She couldn't stand to see him looking like this, not surrounded by all these people who didn't care. But just as quickly as his color returned, it was gone again. She scowled until she saw the corner of his mouth pull upward, just barely.

" - prettier when you smile," she could just make out the words as he said them.

She turned to look at the technicians in the room, "Leave us for a minute?"

She had said it like a request, but they all took it as an order, scuttling out without a word. Clint cocked his head at her, his expression questioning.

"Clint, do you mind?"

"Sure thing, Nat. I'll be right outside if you need me," he nodded and left the room.

Once they were alone, he cracked one eye open, "I had hoped you would come to my rescue."

"Shh, you ass. You're weak enough as it is, you don't need to waste your energy being flip."

"Never a waste," he lifted his hand to brush a red curl back from her forehead, "Not if it makes you smile."

She leaned into the touch, her eyes fixed on the IV tube trailing from the back of his hand. When she dragged her eyes away to look at him, she saw his brows drawn together in a frown.

"What's wrong?"

"Natasha, there are things that you have not told me," his voice was flat, cool. He dropped his hand from her face to the bed, his expression suddenly distant.

It dawned on her - the magic. Of course he would have sensed it. It was stupid of her not to expect that he would. Frigga's warning flashed through her mind, that if she broke Loki's trust, it might be impossible to rebuild.

"Loki, I can explain. I swear, it was the best idea we could come up with to help you, to keep you safe - "

"Brother, do not be upset with Natasha! It was not her plan, but mine!"

She spun to see the god standing in the doorway, the doors leaning noticeably crooked in their tracks, "Thor?"


	29. Chapter 29

So, a little bit faster than a month. Yay!

* * *

Thor's entire frame heaved as he panted, from exertion as well as what looked like fear - fear that his plan would be what severed Loki's final thread of trust in him and any trust he had for Natasha.

"Your plan?" the cool edge had gone from Loki's voice. Instead, he looked confused, "How many knew of this? This foolhardy plan to mold Natasha into something she is not?"

"Your mother, for one," she said, tired of them talking about her like she wasn't there, "She was the one who got the apples from Iduna and gave them to me.

"Did the Allfather - ?"

Thor cut in, "Father knew nothing of the plan. I thought he might object."

"Obviously," Loki snorted, but the snort turned into a grimace as he jostled one of the needles jammed into his arm.

That was when Thor finally noticed their surroundings. His expression darkened and Natasha could practically see his fingers itching to summon Mjolnir, "Brother. Who did this to you?"

He moved to tear the wires and sensors from Loki, but she darted between them to stop him, "Thor, you can't. No one wants him out of there more than me, you know that. But we have to tread a fine line. The second Fury suspects something, he'll move Loki and I don't want to think what might happen to him before we find him again."

The two men looked at her as she continued, "I can do more to keep Loki safe here, but I need to play by Fury's rules for now, until we have a solid plan. I need you to trust me and to not do anything just yet."

"I am not accustomed to waiting and plotting."

"I figured that out," she gave a small smile, and in her peripheral, she saw Loki manage a wry grin.

"-but if you say it is the wisest course of action," he said, ignoring their amusement, "then I will trust your judgment."

"Thor," Loki said, "could we continue this at a later date? I wish to speak to Natasha alone."

Thor nodded, smiling to hide the faint worry in his eyes. Natasha was a little wary too, to be honest. She watched him go, unable to stop a tiny chuckle at his attempts to realign the doors as he went. Then she turned back to Loki.

"Before you say anything, I know it was cruel to keep you in the dark, but - "

He cut her off with a hand on her wrist, yanking her down into a kiss that pushed aside all concern that he might be weakened. Whatever the drugs pumping through him were doing, he was still powerful, and the kiss turned possessive and desperate as he pulled her close, crushing her flush against him. Her nerves sang at the taste of him - she had been afraid that the yacht would be the last time she ever saw him. It seemed he had the same worry.

"Never lie to me again," he whispered, panting as they broke for air, "I am jealous by nature, I will always assume the worst."

"What was the worst you imagined?"

His eyes met hers and the pain she saw there stopped her cold, "I feared you were only using me to gain access to Asgard. I thought you had plotted it out to make yourself a god, with myself as nothing more than a pawn to you."

Natasha heard his breath hitch in his throat, saw his eyes grow glassy and bright. She felt his hands tremble as they buried themselves in her hair and drew her close. She pulled her head back to look at him, to let her see every feeling that passed across her face.

"How could you think that? After what we've been through? " she brushed her lips against his, so light that an observer would almost doubt they had touched at all, "Loki, I already told you, I'm yours. Don't tell me you have doubts already."

"But I am damaged, a useless relic - "

She stopped him with another kiss.

"Don't talk about the man I love like that," she smiled into the kiss, "You are anything but useless."

His eyebrows shot up, his fingers sliding from her hair to curl around her shoulders and squeeze, "Say it again."

"Say what?" she said with a cheeky grin.

Loki scowled and opened his mouth to speak when there came a voice from the doorway.

"Hate to cut the reunion short, but Fury's on his way down," Clint looked genuinely apologetic as he leaned against the still-crooked door.

"Fuck," Natasha breathed, sliding from the edge of Loki's cot and standing again, "It's probably best if you pretend to be asleep again, Loki. He won't try to question you if you're not conscious."

He nodded in silent agreement, sliding down from his upright position and giving Natasha's hand a final squeeze before closing his eyes just in time for them to hear the sound of footsteps approaching.

Natasha frowned - it didn't sound like Fury's gait. Fury walked with more of a swagger, but this sounded more precise, like a march. It sounded almost like -

"Cap? What are you doing down here? No offense, but we were expecting someone else." Clint asked just before the super-soldier strode in, his mouth set in a thin, unhappy line.

"The director's busy at the moment - Stark made sure of that," he looked over at the pale god, "Tony patched himself into the surveillance here ages ago, gave me a call as soon as he figured out what had happened to Loki. He wanted to make sure you knew, and I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess you do."

"Wait, Tony hacked SHIELD? How the hell did he manage that?" Clint's grin was wide and impressed.

"Have him explain it to you - I'm still figuring out how to check my voicemail on my cellphone," Steve paused, "So Loki…is he alive?"

"He's very much alive, and he's had more than enough of people discussing him as though he's not here," Loki said dryly, his eyes still closed.

"Steve, I have to ask - did you know anything about this?" Natasha's voice was low.

"Fury had mentioned that they were continuing research on recreating Howard Stark's serum, but he made it all sound hypothetical. He asked if I could come in the other day to get some blood-work done. But about kidnapping Loki? Really, Natasha? You're asking me if I knew Fury's plan and said nothing?"

"I did," Clint said quietly.

Every head in the room snapped in his direction.

"You what?" Natasha said in disbelief.

Clint nodded, his shoulders drawn inward slightly.

"And you didn't say anything?"

"I never thought it would go like this, Nat. Fury told me weeks ago that they might want to run some tests on Loki, but he made it sound like a routine in-and-out sort of thing," he glanced at Loki apologetically before looking back to Natasha, "It wasn't until the yacht mission that I realized he meant something like this, and you know the director. If you argue with him, he shuts you out."

"Then he shuts you out! How could you stand by and watch this happen?"

"I needed to be on that mission to save you two, 'Tasha!"

"Some job you did of that," her hands were fisted tightly enough that her nails were cutting into her palms.

"I tried to save you both - I did. I was just too late, and I had to make a choice, you or him. I thought he would be able to magic his way out of it, and so I chose you."

"It was a sound strategy," the captain said.

"No one asked you, Steve," Natasha snapped.

"Natasha," Loki said, "the captain is right. Secrets are a necessary element of battle, and Clint's actions were sensible."

"I wanted to tell you, Nat. But we both know you would have pulled out of the mission and the director would know I had given him away, and what good would that have done any of us?"

There was a heavy pause, and then Clint spoke again, "If it means anything, I have an idea for how to break Loki out of here."


	30. Chapter 30

So, remember when I said there would be about one update per month? Yeah...that worked out well, didn't it? Sorry about how long this took! I had it all typed up and nearly done about a week and a half ago, and then my computer decided to shut down and forget I wrote a word.

Also! If you know of/like SyFy's Alice or Dollhouse or both, I have a fic coming up soonish that combines the two of them, but doesn't really require you to know the plots of both. And it's got some shameless Alice/Hatter shipping.

* * *

"You have a plan? Were you ever going to share that with the class, Man in Tights?" a thin, tinny version of Tony's voice drawled from the intercom speaker on the wall.

"Shove it, Tin Man," Clint rolled his eyes, and they could practically hear Tony grinning that the archer was playing along, "Loki, how confident are you in your shapeshifting?"

"Exceedingly."

"And so modest. Listen, I watched the footage. You make body doubles good enough to fool your brother. We have enough readings from the machines that I'm assuming Stark can loop them. You put a double in this bed and you can just walk out the door with someone else's face."

"And Fury won't just hunt him back down?" Steve asked, "You all may know him better than I do, but I still know his type. He won't just take that lying down."

Natasha nodded and said, "Cap's right, it'll take more than just getting Loki out to get him away."

"What, he can't just go back to Asgard?"

"Forever?"

"So that's a no," Clint paused, "And using the double to make it look like you died during testing is no good either."

"I believe that would only call down the wrath of Asgard, effectively proving Fury correct in his assumptions that we pose a threat," Thor agreed, his face solemn.

"He already knows how threatening you are - he's seen the reports from New Mexico. And as for the rest of us, he pitted us against an alien army bent on taking over the planet and he knew we would win," Natasha said, "All we'd be doing is proving that we can't be as sly as he is."

Loki looked at her for a moment, then asked, "What do you have in mind?"

"Instead of having you getting out of here as our endgame, why not just make that step one?"

"Of what?" Steve looked interested, his internal strategist already working on following her train of thought.

"Loki's already escaped SHIELD control once, and from a cell that was supposed to be both inescapable and indestructible, damn near taking the entire airbase with him. If he were to escape again, wouldn't it start to seem that he's too much trouble to be useful as a prisoner?"

She paused and looked around, making sure that they were all following her. She looked to Loki and continued, "Instead, we wouldn't need to get you away forever. We would only need to convince Fury that you're of more use to us as an ally, get him to take you on in a consultant capacity."

One of the monitors fuzzed black and white snow for a second, then switched over to Tony's face, which was anything but confident, "And how's that going to work?"

Loki pushed himself further up the bed and cleared his throat, "If I may, I would like a moment to discuss this with Natasha. Alone?"

Clint and Steve nodded and stepped outside, neither of them looking wildly enthusiastic about the plan as it stood.

"And Tony?" he added, "before you go, could you implement the changes to the surveillance and my body monitors?"

"You making a break for it now?"

"It seems the wisest time to do so, before anyone can suspect and without any more deliberation."

"Forgiveness versus permission?" Tony sounded strangely subdued. He understood the feeling of being held captive for what was in his head. His mouth turned up in a small smile, "Yeah, I can manage it."

The monitors - including the one that had shown Tony - all cut to black for a split second before resuming their previous displays.

Loki turned his attention to Natasha, drawing the edge of his thumb along her cheek. His voice was soft, "Are you ready for what this will call down on you? No matter your skills, there must be a limit to how much Fury will accept before he begins to question your loyalties."

She nodded, her mouth set in a determined line. With one hand she eased the IV out of his wrist, the other brushing his hair back away from his temples. He followed her lead and pulled the adhesive patches away from the skin there. They both glanced at the various monitors as they unhooked him from the collection of machines, hoping that Tony would hold up his end of the deal.

Stark was as good as his word - the monitors continued on as if nothing had changed, their beeping echoing around the cool, sterile room.

When the last electrode had been removed and the last IV needle discarded without any alarms firing up or any SHIELD security bursting through the door, Natasha let out a breath she had only been half aware of holding in. A relieved smile broke out on her face, and she realized how foreign it felt there. She had been doing too much worrying lately.

Loki sat up and wrinkled his nose at the mint-green hospital gown they had put him in. He closed his eyes to concentrate, and when he opened them, he was dressed like just another researcher in a shirt and tie, his lab coat perfectly pressed.

"And who am I today?" he asked, a sardonic smile on his lips.

Natasha was already running through the mental list of everyone she had seen working down here. Someone nondescript would be ideal, bland and forgettable. But if they were to be seen with her, it had to be someone who made sense in that regard. And someone who hadn't shown up to work would be ideal. For that, she had to go to a computer and, after a quick look through the records of card swipes, she had a candidate. She turned the monitor to face Loki, and before she could even turn around, there was a whole different person sitting on the hospital bed.

"Why Doctor, I hardly recognize you," she leaned forward , running her fingertips through his now short, unruly auburn hair.

"I should hope so. That was the point, after all."

His eyes, wide and dark hazel, closed as she dropped a kiss against his lips. Somehow, despite everything about him having changed, this still felt the same. Even with his hands changed to shorter, thicker fingers and his voice less musical, more gravelly, he still felt like home.

"You want to hurry it up there, kids?" Tony's voice ended the moment abruptly.

Loki let out a long-suffering grumble and Natasha sighed, "Fine. We should be out the front door in less than ten."

"You've got five."

"That'll work. And Tony? Can you let the others know the plan?"

"Already taken care of," and with that, the intercom went silent. Natasha took Loki's hand - or rather, Dr. Barnes' hand - and together they left the lab.

Natasha knew the entire building better than most people knew their own homes. She had no trouble finding the corridors that would be the least trafficked at this time of day, which was exactly what they needed. And every time they passed a camera, Natasha was grateful that Tony was as good as he was, and even more so that he was on her side.

They were nearly out, the front lobby in sight, when they ran into someone who wanted to talk to them.

"Doctor Barnes? I thought you weren't coming in today. Something about your daughter having the chickenpox…" the woman said, "Did your wife end up watching her instead?"

Loki didn't miss a beat, smiling and slipping into character, "Yeah, her mom's staying home with her today. Poor kid, she was miserable when I left for work. Her fever's down but you know how kids are they they're sick - "

"Sorry to take him away from you, ma'am, but we really must be going," Natasha said, knowing that their five minutes was all but gone by this point. She placed a hand at the center of Loki's back and steered him away from the woman.

They nearly made it through the lobby when lights flashed and a piercing alarm sounded. Natasha and Loki both started towards the door in a mad sprint as thick sheets of metal were slamming down over all exits around them. Loki, with his longer legs, made it through just ahead of her, and seconds before she skidded through, she heard the sound of an arrow flying past her head, making contact with the metal sheet. For a brief second, it stopped its descent, just long enough for her to clear it completely before it slammed against the ground.

Loki was there, waiting to grab her up. She had time to register his arms wrapping around her before they both collapsed on the couch in her living room.

"We should be safe for now," he said between shaky, adrenaline filled breaths, "though this will be the first place they look for me."

"Remind me to thank Tony and Clint later."

He made a sound of agreement as he shifted back to his own body and tightened his arms around her, "But first, sleep."

"No, we've got too much to do, getting you safe and getting a plan together for when I have to explain myself to Fury and - "

"Natasha," he said, his voice low as he ran his fingers through her hair, "We need sleep."

She let out a soft grumble, but curled up against him, her breathing already slowing and evening out.


	31. Chapter 31

Sorry this took as long as it did! I had it about 90% done and then realized that I had included some things that led to continuity issues and had to redo it and it was kind of a mess. Also, this is almost entirely talking. So...if you like that sort of thing, you'll love this. If not, I think the next chapter will be more to your liking.

* * *

Natasha sat up with a jolt, suddenly awake and hyper-aware of her surroundings. How long had she been asleep? It felt like hours had passed, and the sun had sunk behind the skyline, leaving most of the sky dark. She looked at the clock on the microwave only to see the 12:00 blinking at her angrily. Same with the stove. And her watch. Something was wrong. She looked around for -

Loki.

Where was he? She couldn't see him anywhere, couldn't hear him. Without thinking, her hand went to the mark he had put on her. The second she touched the rune, there was a sound like soft feedback or the noise that comes with snow on the television. Then a hushed voice - Loki.

Natasha? I apologize, I believed the illusions I wove effective enough to keep us a little safer for a little longer.

Where are you? What's going on?

Once again, we find ourselves under siege. We seem to have a gift for that, you and I.

Wait, we're being attacked?

Was I unclear?

Natasha scowled, standing to go to him - then realized he still hadn't answered her question about where he had gone.

Tell me where you are, Loki. I'm coming to help. You're not leaving me behind again, understand?

There was a pause, a sigh, and then an "I suppose," and that was all the warning she had before the floor was yanked out from under her.

And rematerialized exactly the same. Not counting the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the windows and the din of the SHIELD agents she could hear shouting in the hall for her to surrender and "give up the Asgardian". She looked at Loki, confused.

He smiled at her, a hint of pride shining through, "I had shifted your living room to another plane in which time ran differently."

Sometimes she forgot that he was essentially a god, and every time she remembered, she was more than a little awed. Not for the first time, she felt very young and ignorant of the universe in which she lived. Then she thought about what he said.

"How is that not enormous magic? You were supposed to be regaining your strength, not blowing it on stupid tricks like that!"

"You needed sleep," he said simply.

Before Natasha could finish rolling her eyes at the overwhelming stupidity of that, a single shout came through from the hall, "Agent Romanov, this is Deputy Director Hill! Please, open the door! We know Loki's there with you. You have to understand why we can't just let him go, don't you?"

"No, Maria, I don't," Natasha called back, "I'll let you in, but no one else. Everyone else has to stay out there until you and I have talked. Those are my terms."

There was silence for a moment, and she could feel Loki's eyes on her, trying to figure her out, to figure out what exactly she was planning. She could barely make out the sound of hushed voices, mostly Maria's, probably countering whatever arguments her agents were coming up with to dissuade her from taking Natasha's offer.

"Alright," Hill finally responded, "but only if you and Loki both agree to deal with me on even terms. No powers. I'll come in and we'll talk, all of my agents stay outside and you two hold off on the magic."

"Done."

"Loki?"

The god scoffed, feeling he was being treated like an unruly child, but said, "I give you my word."

That must have been good enough, because when Natasha cracked the door, her gun in hand, Maria stepped through. She could see the other agents' discomfort at letting their deputy director go alone into an unknown situation, but it wasn't like they'd been left much choice. They were all well aware that she would stop them in the most painful non-lethal way possible. That wasn't to say that they'd do nothing if it all went sour. It was a safe bet they had an explosives expert tucked away somewhere in that group.

The door was shut, locked, deadbolted, and electrified.

Natasha shot Loki a look - the electricity was new. He shrugged, looking pointedly innocent.

"Ok, I'm here. Now Natasha, what in hell were you thinking, breaking Loki out?" Maria didn't look angry, like Natasha would have expected. Instead, she looked worried, even betrayed?

"They had him hooked up like a lab rat, Hill, did you know that? Wired up to every machine imaginable, and for what? To design new weapons? Weapons they could have gotten the information for by asking. But instead they send us on some bullshit mission and drug us both to kidnap him. Loki fought beside all of us, beside his brother who everyone believed he supposedly hated, and he agreed to go on a SHIELD mission when Clint couldn't. Does this sound like someone who needs to be drugged into cooperation? Does it?"

"Fury has his reasons," Hill said, but Natasha could see that it sounded hollow to her even as she formed the words.

"And his reasons are that he doesn't trust anyone anymore," she had to work to keep the resentment out of her words, "and that worked out in Manhattan, but this isn't that. No one's nuking a major city, no one's plotting world domination. If SHIELD wants to build new weapons, they have so many resources to tap and all they need do is ask. Steve, Thor, and yeah, even Loki. Did it ever occur to any of you to just ask?"

It was plain to see that Maria had had some of these same questions rattling around in the back of her mind for a while now. Fury was a brilliant tactician and a charismatic leader, but Natasha was right, he had stopped trusting the people around him and instead charging ahead, driven more by suspicion than logic lately.

"He has been getting more erratic lately. But it's not as if we could depose him - there's not even anyone to take his place. There's no one who knows SHIELD like he does, or can command the respect that he does. And even if there were, it would have to be someone well known enough and high enough in the organization that it wouldn't come off as a coup."

An idea occurred to Natasha, though not for the first time, and she felt the slow curl of her lips pulling up into a smile. Loki glanced between her and Maria and back again, and it was obvious from his matching expression that he had figured out what she was thinking.

"What? Why are you both smiling at me? It's - no. Absolutely not. Me?" she protested, "I'm good - I'm damn good, but I don't want that kind of power."

"And one could argue that is exactly what makes you so well suited to the task," Loki reasoned, "So often, those who desire power, when given it, only become ravenous for more. They misuse it. Those who do not feel a sense of responsibility to others, to those over whom they have been given power. From what I have seen of your skills - usually used against me - you are formidable."

Natasha nodded and said, "He's not wrong, Hill. You're a strong leader, highly placed, clever. And most importantly, you don't take any shit."

Before any of them could continue, there was a brusque knock on the door, "Deputy Director? Everything alright in there?"

"Fine, Agent."

"Any reason to believe that'll be changing soon?"

"None that I can see," she said, then, quietly, "though some other things might change…"


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter warning: Here there be sex. Don't read with other people in the room if they can see your screen.

* * *

Natasha looked around the loft where they all stood. It felt so strange, so foreign to her, and yet it wasn't all that long ago that they had been gathered there for movies and takeout. The Natasha who had sat on that sofa and grinned at their stupid jokes seemed like a different person entirely. More naïve, though she never would have thought to apply that word to herself. And maybe lonelier.

The people in the room with her were all there just because she had asked them to come. They cared about her. Back when it had been movie nights for Steve, they had all gotten along well enough, but she wouldn't necessarily have thought of them as friends. It took some getting used to, but now she didn't know what else they could be.

"You're plotting to overthrow Fury and you didn't tell me?" Tony asked, pretending to be affronted, a little concern showing through from under all of that trademarked Stark snark.

"No one's _plotting_ and it's hardly a coup, Tony," Natasha rolled her eyes, "Fury said it himself a while ago. With Coulson gone, he's lost his one good eye. We need someone with perspective, someone who isn't so comfortable with the power that comes from being the director of SHIELD."

"And you think Miss Hill is our girl?"

"That's 'Agent', Stark," a voice from behind Tony's right shoulder made him turn, "and I don't think I'd call myself a girl."

"Ah, right," he was making a herculean effort not to roll his eyes at the agent in front of him, "Then what would you call yourself?"

She drew herself up to her full height - which, in a room with two demigods and a supersoldier, wasn't exactly tall - and looked Tony in the eyes as she said, "If you'll have me, I think I'd like to call myself the future director of SHIELD."

Natasha smiled. She had known Maria would be the hardest of anyone to convince. She was loyal to the end and close to Fury, which could have worked for or against them. It had all come down to what Agent Hill considered herself more loyal to - Fury or SHIELD.

"It should have been Coulson - he was an incredible agent and a good man. That said, Phil's gone. Fury's…I admire Fury for everything he's done, but no one can stay at the top of their game forever. I think he's lost sight of what SHIELD should be, what it could be, if only we let it. And if we let the Council choose the new director, they'll just install a puppet who'll do whatever they decide. As much as I dislike the idea of a hostile takeover, I don't see another option," Maria paused. She clasped her hands behind her and looked at each of them in turn, eyes finally coming to rest on the unofficial leader of the Avengers, Steve, "Let's just keep the 'hostile' part to a minimum?"

"Yes ma'am," Steve nodded.

He was a soldier much like her. It was clear to him how much this went against her training, how much courage it took for her to agree to it. This wasn't Natasha's Russia, where regimes fell every day. If they were going to do this, they had better be damn sure they were right.

So, resolute in their belief that this was the right choice, they all sat down to make their plan, down to the last detail. It was hours before they were all satisfied, but once they were, Natasha felt a weight she hadn't realized was there lift from her chest. She was worn, but she could breathe easier already. Finally, the group went their separate ways for the evening. Loki caught her eye with a quiet smile, just enough of the trickster gleam in his eye that she decided she needed to get him home as soon as possible.

It felt like eons since the two of them had had a moment alone. Tomorrow would be another story, but for the time being they had nowhere to be, no one to answer to. Loki had offered to have them in her bedroom in a blink, but she turned it down. Too much of their lives had been rushed lately, and there was something about sitting in the back of a cab curled up against the man she loved. It did wonders for her nerves and the migraine that had been threatening to start for days. The instant they got to her apartment building, however, they flashed from the first stair landing to her bedroom, skipping all those flights entirely. There were limits to a god's patience.

"S'been so long," she breathed as he latched onto her throat, biting just hard enough to tear a ragged moan from her.

His lips turned up in a smile, but he didn't stop the exploration of her exposed skin. The smile grew wider when he noticed her steering them towards the bed.

Natasha leaned back, pulling him down over her with a grin of her own. She led him further up the bed, her feet mussing the covers as she went. He draped himself over her, a thrill running through him at the feel of her warmth against him. It wasn't enough, though. Between her dress and his suit, there were still far too many layers between the two of them. Already her slim fingers were working on his shirt, his jacket long forgotten on the floor. With the last button out, she slid her hands under and along his arms, easing the shirt off of him. The heat from her fingers felt like a brand on his skin, marking him as hers.

It had been much too long since they explored each other like this, worshipped each other. Never again, he decided.

His musings were cut off when she yanked his hands to her thighs, to the hem of her dress, wordlessly insisting that he help her take it off. More than happy to comply, his hands began the slow glide up her legs, lifting her hips, continuing up to her torso. Once her bottom half was exposed, he used his grip on her waist to pull her towards him, crushing them together as he stole a kiss.

She tasted like coming home.

Natasha, not content to keep things sweet and gentle, writhed against him. She pulled her dress higher, over her head, and flung it away. Her underwear were next, landing next to the discarded dress. A needy whimper escaped her as she felt just how interested he was, and she immediately twined her legs around him to bring him even closer and before Loki could blink, she had maneuvered herself into his lap and plunged down, driving him deep inside. He felt more than saw the wave of pleasure course over her as she set up a reckless, punishing rhythm against him.

He nearly choked on his own tongue from the sensation, and every nerve in his body was crying out for her, but when Loki drew back to look at the woman he loved, something struck him. Something about her expression. Where he expected to find happiness, adoration, even plain lust, instead he found desperation and…fear?

"Natasha," he reached out to stop the undulation of her hips against his, "Natasha, this is not right."

"What?" she wouldn't meet his gaze. Something was definitely wrong.

He combed his fingers through her hair softly, trying to coax her into looking at him, "There is something troubling you - you have never looked at me with genuine fear before. Why now?"

"You're imagining it. Shh," she brushed the matter aside and surged up to capture his lips with hers. Her hands buried themselves in his hair and pulled as she dragged her teeth across his bottom lip. A bone-deep shudder of heat burned through Loki, but he gripped her shoulders and separated them.

"Stop! We are bonded, you and I, and you cannot lie to me. I have seen your mind, Natalia," her eyes snapped up at his use of her real name, "Now, please tell me the truth."

She stared at him in defiance for a moment, but the look on his face was too gentle, too worried for her to keep up the façade. He saw as something in her crumpled.

"I'd forgotten what it was like to need someone," she whispered, "but I couldn't break down, not while you were still trapped there. I trusted Fury, I looked up to him, and he used you, used us. And it's been so long since I needed someone that I couldn't remember how to react except to shut down everything that could be a weakness."

"Emotions are not necessarily a weakness, Natasha."

She let out a shaky laugh, "Quite a turnaround from what you once told me."

"I was a fool then, and you know it."

Her eyes flicked up to his, then down and away. He could tell she was close to shutting herself up and closing him out. Unwilling to let that happen, he eased himself out of her and stood. She looked up at him, confused. The confusion melted away when he scooped her up in his arms, effortless despite his slim build, and cradled her close. Another time she might have laughed with indignation and demanded he put her down, but he knew that behind the strong face she wore, she was just as fragile as anymore - maybe moreso. With a thought, he switched on the shower and by the time they had crossed the room there were warm curls of steam flowing into the rest of the bathroom.

Once she was back on her feet and in the shower, he followed her in, watching how the water streamed along her pale limbs and uncoiled the tension he had seen building in her muscles. This time, he would set the pace. He brushed damp curls back from her temples and laid light kisses along her cheekbones. Broad hands and long fingers skated up and down her back, kneading muscles and gently pulling her hips close. Each time Natasha pushed for more, for faster, for harder, he would pause. With soothing, languid kisses, he would slow them to his original pace. He tried to speak with every touch, to wordlessly promise her that this was not the last time they would be together this way. They were more than a mad god and a broken assassin. They defied reason, and they fit together perfectly.

When he felt the last remnant of fear fade away from Natasha, he cupped her hips and hoisted her up against the now-warm shower wall. As he sank her down onto him, he leaned his head down to draw her into a kiss, sucking her bottom lip between his. The small sigh she breathed against the kiss spoke volumes. With their lips still together, he cracked an eye to see the most blissful, content expression on her face. One arm stayed against the wall, bracing them. The other, however, wound around her waist and pressed the two of them together too tightly for even the water to slip between them. He sucked in a breath, always amazed at the feel of her body. He lost control of the slow pace for a moment, thrusting deeply and panting against her hair. This time, it was Natasha who stilled him, setting up her own gentle undulation. He followed suit, and when he dropped a kiss to the rune he marked her with - it felt so long ago now - his vision went white. He felt her throw her head back and let out a ragged gasp and knew she was wracked with the same explosion of sensation. It felt like hours before they came back from that, and by the time he opened his eyes, he had sunk down onto his knees with Natasha in his lap, boneless and smiling.

"How did you know?"

Loki blinked at that, still fuzzy from his orgasm, "What?"

"Exactly what I needed," she mumbled, her face buried in his neck.

"Because I know you," he cupped her chin to bring her on eye level with him, "and that is also how I know that we will persevere. Let them try to stop us. Let them see what comes of it."


End file.
